


Where did we go?

by therosystarling



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Based of both movies and the book a tad, Fluff, M/M, Reddie, Sad times ahead, modern day AU, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-05-07 12:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14670945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therosystarling/pseuds/therosystarling
Summary: At twenty-five, Eddie is the successful owner of his own car service, with only two problems in his life: he wants out of the relationship he's stuck in, and he can't remember much, if anything, of his childhood. When a Radio DJ Convention comes to town, Richie 'Mouth" Tozier just might help solve both of these problems.





	1. 1

Autumn was truly Eddie's favorite season. The stretch of road he lived on was littered with more trees than houses, and Autumn was when they would start to turn into gorgeous shades of reds, yellows, and oranges-with purples mingled in the mix. The ride to and from work were his favorite moments of the day anyway, those fifteen minutes-most of them on that long street-were quiet and peaceful, and the two years he had lived on his own, he watched those trees in all times of year. Blooming in Spring, flush and full in Summer, incredible hues in Autumn , and snow covered and sometimes icy in the Winter. This particular early October morning was an incredible one, with just a slight nip in the air to need a sweatshirt, the leaves still clinging on their branches, and the last couple of weeks is when he began to spot them changing. The greens were slowing fading away, and a couple trees here and there were already a full-blown orange. He rolled down the window just a little, breathing in the crisp air. Once they began to fall, he'd scoop a few leaves up and tuck them away in a book with them pressed in wax paper. He was a sucker for Autumn leaves.

 

He reached the end of the road, the highway that took him to work to his left. He liked living where he did-ever since moving to Vermont eight years ago, he liked that many highways or main roads had tiny, tucked away ones right off of them. A few he had been down weren't even paved _or_ pebbled, they were just dirt. Living where he did was like almost two separate worlds just inches apart. A bustling city on one side, a small country-like life on the other. He clicked his blinker to the left and smoothed his way onto the highway, his business only now five minutes away. 

At twenty-five years old, Eddie knew he was incredibly fortunate to be where he was. He owned his own car service, and had been voted 'Friendliest Business' in the local papers for the last three years. It had started off as just an idea between him and his college roommate, Dan- _what if we did an Uber type thing, but with classic cars?_ Eddie and Dan came up with the idea while sophomores, and with Eddie's ability to repair any type of vehicle within a day, it was easy finding older cars within a budget after they got approved for a loan. They had started off with a limousine first, what Eddie considered his baby. A Nineteen Fifty-Seven Cadillac limo, a seventy-five series. It took a little more body work, which Dan was more familiar with doing, and within a week, they had her up and running. Paired with a sixty-six Ford Ranchero, they began the work themselves right before their senior year, and heads began to turn, mouths began to talk. Eddie and Dan had worked everything out to a T. Eddie had never really been one for social media, but he dived headfirst into trends and what was popular, what people of all ages would like. They had theme days ('Weed Wednesday' seemed to be the most popular), discounts, promotional nights, and even held 'retro' parties to spread the word. They developed an app from scratch for people to be able to book a ride, asked opinions about what cars people wanted, where people would like to go the most, and so on. When they graduated, they had made enough money that year to pay back the loan. That had been four years ago, and now, 'Kaspbrak's Classy Chasis' had took off, with a total of forty different cars of all years and models on the lot (his baby was still there), and a flurry of drivers, both full and part time. Even though Eddie was the boss and owner-Dan was co-owner and in charge of the social media part of the business more than anything-Eddie wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. He still fixed them up when they broke down, still fixed up new ones when they acquired them, helped alongside the employees to clean them up, and when needed, happily drove clients to their destinations. He kept a suit in his office closet for just such an occasion. It was that attitude that had caught the eye of other businesses. Eddie was so polite and down to earth, his workers paid nicely and with benefits even if they were just part time, and donated time, money, and rides to children and families that struggled with cancer, that he drew attention to how he handled things. All his drivers were incredible, each ride almost eerily tailored to someone's taste, that the online reviews were phenomenal. He was mostly embarrassed people were praising him for just being a decent human being, but now, that attitude may have secured him other locations of his business. If things went the way they were, he may be getting two more in Vermont, and one across the border into Eastern New York state. He smiled. He definitely knew he was lucky. 

Pulling into the business employee lot, he noticed a flurry of activity that morning. Every employee seemed to be outside, cleaning up the cars. He parked his car-his own little turquoise Fifty-three Kaiser Dragon, which was his _second_ baby-next to Dan's car, and hopped out, locking the door behind him. He made his way over the business cars, and flagged down an employee, Erin, busily working on waxing hers.

"What's all this? Shit. What's today?" Eddie grabbed his phone out of his pocket to open his calendar, but Erin beat him to it.

"That convention is in town, boss-guy, remember?" She gave a grin as she said it, earning a smile back from Eddie. "The National Radio Dee-Jay thing? You mentioned it last week."

Eddie sucked in a breath. "Oh, God. I totally spaced out about it. We have enough cars?"

"Totally, Mr. Ed," she smiled. "A lot of the people who booked are sharing rides. You might have to don the ol' suit, though. Take a break from the desk."

Eddie laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Sarah will let me know if I'm needed. I'll pull myself away from counting all those gold bricks you think I'm hiding from the rest of you."

"I know it's actually diamonds," she yelled out as Eddie walked away. He bark laughed at her, shaking his head as he entered inside. Sarah, his receptionist, smiled warmly from her desk. 

"Morning, boss-guy! Today's a doozy already!"

"So I noticed. I can't believe I forgot about the convention."

"What'd you do? Have one hell of a Sunday? What were you drinking Saturday night when we all went bowling?"

Eddie shrugged. "Hey, yesterday was cleaning day. You know I get into my own little world while cleaning."

Sarah nodded in confirmation, then looked at Eddie a bit grimly. "You, uh. You have a call waiting for you, by the way. Line two. They just rang as you pulled into the lot."

"Oh?"

"...It's Myra."

"...Oh." Eddie swallowed, hoping his face didn't look as disappointed as he felt. "Thanks. I'll...pick it up in my office." He walked the few feet to the room, passing Dan on the way with a wave, then clicked the door closed behind him when he entered. Today had been such a beautiful morning, so it figures Myra had to call to ruin it. She rarely ever called him, either at work or on his cell, or texted, and when she did, it seemed to be for no other reason than to suck whatever joy he was feeling that day right out of him. He brushed his hands over his face, slapped his cheeks a little, then made his way to his phone. He grabbed it and pressed the blinking 'call waiting' button. "Eddie Kaspbrak her-"

"Eddie, hey. Change of plans. Blue. You need a blue tie."

Eddie internally groaned. He hated blue on him. It didn't fit his skin tone at all, and last she decided, the color was to be gold. "Ohhhhkay. What else is bl-"

"Bridesmaids are wearing blue. Flowers are blue. I'm wearing blue flowers in my hair. Makes my eyes pop. Gold is _last_ year, Eddie-Bear. Blue's in, so make sure you get a blue tie. And a **new** blue tie. No old ones you might have. Okay?"

Eddie gritted his teeth. "Yes, got it. Okay." It really _wasn't_ , seeing as the wedding wasn't even for another year, and he was sure she'd change her mind about six more times this month alone. ""What shade of blue?"

"I'll email you the color. It's on the bridal website. It's pretty. Looks like my personal trainer's eyes," she said smugly. He rolled his eyes. He already knew she was screwing him, and he didn't care, but she liked to play this game with him.

"Now, My-My," he began with a saccharin sweet voice. "You're not thinking of running off with some other man, are you?" _God_ , he hated that nickname she insisted people call her.

A shrewish giggle came over the line. "Little old _me_? Of course not, Eddie! Anyway, I'll send it when I'm done tanning today. Oh, and something came up, so I can't visit next week. Probably can't make it until around Christmas, actually. Sorry."

Eddie silently fist pumped. "Aww, gosh. That's horrible! I miss you. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, however. We'll just have to-"

"Yep, so gotta go, Ed. See ya. Get that tie." Click.

He slammed down the phone and plunked down quietly in his chair, sliding off his sweatshirt and tossing it to the corner of the room. He hated this part of his life. It was the only part he had no control over, or so he felt-being engaged to a woman he didn't love just so her father could expand his businesses. He hated this side of him. He never thought in a million years he'd stoop as low to pretend to want to marry someone just for profit. Myra's dad had took a shining to him when she introduced them-Myra had lived briefly in the area two years ago and been one of the home hospice care nurses that helped take care of Eddie's mom in her last few months of cancer, and she had paid no attention to Eddie until his mother mentioned he owned a business. Myra's dad, Arthur, happened to be _the_ guy you talk to when expanding a business, having helped and co-own dozens of them in the last thirty years, and Arthur had been genuinely amused and impressed that Eddie had no idea who he was. Somehow that rolled into Arthur asking if Eddie would take Myra out for a couple dates, which, Eddie obliged out of niceness, then _that_ somehow had turned a horrific sharp curve into Myra insisting to her father Eddie was the 'one,' and they should marry, even though he had only taken her out for five dates in nine months when she declared that. But her father had been tickled pink, and that's when the talks started about the growing the business, and Eddie had let the fantasy of being successful overtake him, and before he knew it, he was to be married to a creature who acted as if his mother's soul inhabited hers.

And he was pretty sure she knew he was gay. 

But he also quickly learned Myra was in things for gain-she would simply have another man in her life to pay for all her things besides her father, and Eddie had it figured out in his head-if he could hold out through the wedding and stay married for at least two years, he wouldn't lose control of any of the potential businesses could be coming his way if Arthur could make the deals go right. And Arthur loved him, a lot-he thought it was charming that Myra was living in New York State and Eddie wasn't pressuring her to come move in with him, because Arthur was one of those types who felt certain things should be left for marriage. Of course, Myra would still visit, and stay in Eddie's spare bedroom everytime, and lie to her _daddy_ and say she was at a hotel -not that _daddy_ had anything to worry about, because he and Myra had had sex a whopping three times their whole courtship, and she hadn't bothered pressing him the last couple times, so he came to the realization she figured out he didn't like girls. But she was too invested in the money, and Eddie was too invested in the potential business growth, and so he lived on with this miserable secret hanging over his head while she spent daddy's money. And now she would soon spend his.

He ughed out loud, opening the door to go grab some coffee. It wasn't as if his office was in the dark about him, either-he had an ex-boyfriend he was still friends with on Facebook, and Dan knew him from college-Eddie just shrugged when the Myra thing came up and said he was into both men and women. But it was a lie, and he felt everyone knew it. He loathed himself for letting his dream get attainable in _this_ way.

"Everything alright?" Eddie snapped his head around at Sarah, who was frowning.

"Yep. Just change of plans, is all. Everything's good." He rifled through the different flavored K-Cups and picked a hazelnut one, sticking it in the machine and holding a mug under the brew. 

"You know," Sarah said, "there's a guy I met last week at my kid's parent teacher night. Name's Jordan Mack? He's great at spreading businesses. Rich like a motherfucker. Maybe-maybe you could ask him for help?"

Eddie pulled the cup away from the coffee machine, adding cream and sugar."Yeah. Maybe I should look into more help." He knew he probably wouldn't. He felt way too deep into this thing to break it off now. Arthur was a big name, and he really didn't want him to trash his business for breaking things off with his daughter. He wasn't sure if Arthur would do such a thing, but he didn't want to risk it. He took a sip of his coffee and smiled wearily at Sarah. "Okay. Time to get to work. When does that convention start?"

"Eleven, so a lot of them out there will be rolling out at ten to get to the hotels. You okay to work today if needed?"

"Absolutely. Always am. Have my best suit in the office and everything."

 

*****************

 

"Edward?"

Eddie was quietly working online, negotiating to try and secure two more cars. Gorgeous old Corvettes. "Uh-oh. Must be serious if you're using the _Edward_." _I swear to God if it's Myra again, I'll strangle her with every **gold** tie I can find_.

"We need a driver."

"Oh? It's-wow, it's almost ten-thirty. Doesn't that thing start soon?"

"Yeah, well, this guy overslept and saw our logos on the windows of the cars as they peeled out. His hotel is pretty close to the convention center, anyway. You down to take your _baby_ out for a spin?"

Eddie visibly relaxed. "Sarah, I'm always ready to take her out for a spin. What's his name?"

"The Mouth."

"I'm sor-the _what_?"

"The Mouth," she repeated. "Sirius XM guy out of California. All he gave me. Sorry."

"Great. Sounds like a blast," he sighed, standing up. "Let me change into my suit. Which hotel?"

"The Stafford."

"Seriously? That's barely ten minutes from where they're holding this thing. He could just take the bus."

Sarah just shrugged. "We aim to please, Eddie. He paid for it. I'll let the drivers know you're on it."

 

Eddie walked to the closet where he kept his suit-it was a simple lightweight gray one, with a black tie that had a clip shaped like an old car he got from Dan years ago. He slid into the suit quickly, grabbing the shoes from the floor that went with it perfectly. He smoothed his hair in the little mirror he had hung up inside the door, and glanced at the bottles he kept on the top shelf.

He muttered to himself. "Let's see, radio guy. Radio guy. What scent would a radio guy like?" One of the big draws of Kaspbrak's Classy Chasis was that they had partnered with a company that made made-to-order air fresheners that they would spray in the cars. Teenagers seemed to like weed and chocolate, dates liked roses and vanilla, elderly people liked fresh linens and grass. He scanned his eyes over them until he fell on one that would probably work perfectly-it was made for bands that came to town. "Rock N' Shock.' Scented like Vinyl, leather, tobacco and whiskey. "Sounds good to me." He closed the closet and grabbed the keys to his classic limo off of the key hook hanging on the wall. "I'm off, Sarah. Let me know if there's any other last minutes in need."

 

***************

Eddie sped a little faster than he really liked to, but the hotel and convention center were farther out than he liked. Only a few cars had been assigned to that particular hotel for this shindig, and he still couldn't fathom why this guy had decided to contact him for a ride. Still, a client was a client-he just wanted to make sure he got himself there in one piece. 

He reached the parking lot of the hotel, and idled quietly out of the way of patrons while he rolled the window down. He opened the app and clicked the auto-reply button that he was there. He frowned. He had no idea what this guy looked like, which in a normal ride, wasn't that big of a deal-but with a convention, he wanted to make sure all the clients got recognized and addressed by name. He dialed the office.

"Kaspb-"

"Hey, Sarah. What does this, uh...Mouth look like? Did he say anything about what he'd be wearing? Or if he'd be waiting for me in the parking lot?"

"Oh. Uh. Hmm. I'm not sure if he gave any-"

Eddie looked out the window and suddenly saw a man hurrying over to his open car window. He was adorned with black and white checkered board shorts, a neon pink shirt with a name that Eddie was guessing was a band, a black short sleeved button up over that, and though he only caught a quick glimpse of his feet, he was positive his socks weren't matching in slip-on shoes that nearly matched his shorts, except they had yellow squares where the white would be. The man poked his head into the window, his face just inches from Eddie's.

" _Please_ tell me you're my ride, cutie. It's so cold out here, I think a testicle retreated all the way into my throat. If you're not, I'll make it worth your while to get me there." He gave a sparkling white, large toothed grin.

"...Never mind, Sarah. I got him." Eddie turned off his phone and set it back on the seat next to him. "Uh, yes. Hello, Mr. Uh. _Mouth_ , is it?"

"Oh, Jesus, fuck me, did I not give you my name? Fuckin' figures. Sorry about that. Richie. You?"

Eddie blinked. He could see why this guy had the nickname he did. "Eddie. I'll be your driver today."

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Eds. You got heat in there? My dumb ass never even thought about the temperature here."

Eddie clicked the heat dial over to full blast. "Sure do, sir. Let me get out, and I'll help you-" Before he could even unclick his seatbelt, Richie had rounded his way around the car to the passenger side, and thrown himself inside the car. He fiddled with the heater vent to make it blow directly on him.

"Oh. My God. _So_ much better." He rubbed his arms, littered with goose bumps. "Man, this is a cute car! Cute boys driving cute cars? I can get behind a business like this one."

Eddie hoped his slight blush wasn't that noticeable. "Uh, sir? This is a-"

"Oh, hell no. Richie. _Please._ None of this _sir_ shit. That's like... an old guy thing. Only Girl Scouts shilling their wares are allowed to call me that to guilt me into grabbing sixteen boxes of Thin Mints. Or my kinkier dates." Richie gave him a wink.

Eddie took a breath and cleared his throat. "Alright. Richie. This is a limo. Don't you...want to sit in the back?"

"Nah," Richie replied, sitting back a little in the seat. "I admittedly don't really like limos. Can't get to know the driver sitting all the way back there." Eddie raised an eyebrow and looked behind him. The older car had a backseat that wasn't set as far back as newer models. "Besides," Richie continued, "I get carsick. Easier for me to ride up front. Unless you feel like scrubbing out this morning's hotel omelet bar from your upholstery." Richie shifted a little closer to Eddie. "Is that okay? You won't get in trouble or anything with your boss, will you?"

Eddie smiled. "It's perfectly fine, si-Richie. Just making sure, is all." He started his way out of the lot. Richie hummed to himself, running his hands over the interior of the car. 

"This really is nice, Eds. Sweet ride. Gorgeous, even." His hand stopped on the dash, and his nostrils flared a bit. "What is-what am I smelling? Is that...are you wearing something?" He leaned in incredibly close to Eddie, sniffing his neck. Eddie shuddered, the feeling tickling him. 

"No, not me," he said, trying to keep his eyes on the road. _What the fuck is **with** this guy? Does he have no concept of personal space?_

Richie sniffed again. "It's like...it smells like...my favorite music shop. Do you have records in here? You have some weird DJ type turntables hidden away?"

"Open the glove box," Eddie replied, nodding towards it. Richie complied, and grabbed the air freshener bottle when he spotted it.

"Huh. 'Rock N' Shock.' Well, I'll be. " He dug his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of the bottle. "Can anybody buy these? Or just businesses?"

"Anyone. Website offers a discount for businesses, though. I have a coupon code I use, too. I'll make sure it gets passed your way before you leave town."

"Well, damn! You guys really do have stellar service. What's the boss like? Is he everything they say he is online? A friendly, giving God among us mere mortals?"

Eddie chuckled. "I just try to be polite, is all."

Richie's mouth snapped shut and he blinked a few times. "Wait. You- _you're_ the boss?"

"Yep. Eddie Kaspbrak, at your service."

"Hell, if I had known, I would have let you take me in the back."

"Uh. _Put_ you in the back, you mean."

"Sure, cutie. Whichever." 

Eddie internally screamed. _Is this guy hitting on me? Or is just being his radio persona? What the hell **is** his persona?_ Eddie made a mental note to try and search for his show online once he got back to the office.

"So, where you from, Eddie," Richie asked. "'Cause I can tell you're not a native Vermonter. Vermontee. Vermontana?"

"Really? How can you be so sure?"

Eddie caught a glance of Richie's quiet smile. "All the hotel staff has an accent. An accent I'm assuming is Vermont...tee? And you _definitely_ do not have it."

Eddie laughed. "Yeah, you're right. I moved here when I was seventeen-"

"So last week, huh?"

"Har-har. I'm twenty-five, thank you."

"Wow. Really? Me too. You have such young-looking skin, though!" Richie lightly pinched one of Eddie's cheeks. "Send me whatever moisturizer you use along with that coupon code, would ya?"

 _Okay. Maybe a guy complementing you this much wasn't **that** bad._ "I'm originally from Maine. I should have some sort of New England accent, but I really don't."

"Are you kidding me? _I'm_ from Maine! Where abouts did you grow up?"

Eddie tightened his fingers on the steering wheel. He hated this question. "Oh, uh. Just a small town. Near Bangor. About an hour north of it or so."

_Oh, please don't ask the town name. Please don't. pleasepleaseplease_

Richie drummed his fingers on his knees. "Shit, we must have been neighbors! I grew up just north of Bangor, too! I honestly can't remember if it was an hour away, though. May have been closer. It's like..." Richie trailed off, quiet for a moment until he snapped back. "Sorry. I had something on the tip of my tongue, but I lost it. It's weird, I can't really remember much of my childhood. Like...I remember small things. Like riding my bike and swimming, but I can not tell you anyone I was friends with, or who my teachers were. Shit like that. You get me?"

Eddie breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Yeah, same here. I remember some bits of it. I definitely know I walloped a guy with a rock at some point in my life. Couldn't tell you what the hell my house color was, though. Shit, I don't remember my school...'s mascot" _It's not a lie. Not a lie._

Richie laughed loudly. "Fuck, I think I hit a guy with a rock, too. Must be a Maine thing. Weird, though. I thought I was the only one."

"The only one what?"

"Who couldn't remember much from when they were younger. My co-workers and friends-they'll tell me shit they vividly remember when they were ten, and shit if I can remember anything until I got out to California for college. I just figured I've been smoking too much pot."

They both smiled. "Well, I'm just a casual smoker, so it can't be that," Eddie offered.

Richie stared at Eddie with surprise. "You? Really? No offense, but you look like a two-beer steer."

"...I don't think that's how that saying goes, Richie."

"Yeah, but that sentence is way more polite."

Eddie nodded a little. He couldn't disagree with that. "Okay, so...the convention center is right up here. There's a Target right next to it. Literally right next to it, so if you want to grab a hoodie or something."

"Noted. Thanks." They pulled into the large parking center for the convention. "So...are you my ride back?"

"Oh. Uh, I don't think so? It's usually whoever is on rotation and takes the request." Richie fell quiet. "I mean...you can ask for a certain driver, though."

Richie perked up. "That so? I might just do that, then. Bye, cutie." He gave Eddie another wink as he unfastened his seatbelt. He opened the door and paused for a second. "You know, this thing goes until Thursday. Hope to see you around." He then got out and left, giving Eddie a wave, Eddie finding himself giving one back. He watched to make sure Richie got inside safely, then left. 

_Well, that was odd. What a weird guy._

So why did he feel so...comfortable?

********************************************

"What the _hell_ happened on the way over there," Sarah howled when Eddie walked back in.

"What? Nothing! Why?"

Sarah was laughing. "Did you not listen to the local radio station on the way back? They're there at the convention, and hoo _boy_ , did you get a good review from that Mouth guy! Said to ask for Eddie from Kaspbrak's if you want the cutest driver in the world!"

Eddie groaned. "Oh, God. He's so...weird. I have no other words to describe him, Sarah."

"Well, whatever you did, we have three requests for you in the next couple weeks. Better keep that suit clean!"

Eddie mumbled to himself. He didn't mind driving when needed, but leave it to this guy to run his Mouth. _Fitting name,_ he thought again. "I'm going to try to finish getting those cars, okay? Just...stop laughing, Sarah!"

Sarah hid her face behind a piece of paper. "I'm not! I swear!"

"Uggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Just! I need like half an hour, okay?" Eddie wandered into his office, closing the door behind him so he could shed his suit off and slip back into his regular clothes. He sat and busied himself, booting up his laptop, hoping the guy still wanted to do business.

************************************************

Forty minutes later, he had secured the cars, mentally doing a happy dance. Two beautiful old red Corvettes was just what they needed. He ran down the body work needed with Dan, and they mapped out a plan on how long it would take them to repair and have the cars out. He had just finished up the planning and was wiring the money through to the dealer when his cell phone rang.

"Eddie Kaspbrak here!"

"Ooh, this your 'business' voice? I like it, cutie."

Eddie frowned. "Richie? How did you get my cell?"

"I have my ways. But maybe you should have a talk with Sarah, whoever she is. Just a heads up." 

Eddie swore under his breath. "What can I do for you, Rich? Did you forget something in the limo? I can get it back to you-"

"You said you couldn't remember your school mascot. Which got me thinking about what mine was, and wouldn't you know it? I can't remember mine, either."

"O-Okay?" Eddie wasn't sure where Richie was going with this.

Richie took a shaky sounding breath in. "Eddie, what school did you go to?"

Eddie sat in his chair in silence, mouth suddenly going dry. "Excuse me? I didn't hear you, can you-"

"It's okay," Richie answered. "I know you don't know. And I don't know where I went, either. I sat here, struggling to think of the school after you had said that, and damned if I can remember it. How about the town name? What was it? Don't bother, Eds. I already know I'm going to get nothing on that, too. And you probably know my answer on it"

Eddie noticed his hand was slightly trembling. "Yeah," he finally managed to whisper out. "You don't remember it, either."

"And you don't think that's completely fucked ? Two guys who only vaguely remember the area where they grew up, but nothing else? Not the name of the town? Their school? Their _friends?_ "

"I don't like talking about it," Eddie admitted. "It's...a long story."

"So tell it. Tonight. If you-if you want to, that is." Eddie could hear Richie breathing heavy in anticipation.

"Yeah. Yes. I'll-what time is that thing over today? I'll have the driver drop you here. I-I have something to look for at my house. You can come with me."

A quiet laugh came from the line. "Already inviting me over, eh? I know I'm charming, Eds, but I don't put out until a boy treats me to dinner first."

A small smile spread on Eddie's face. "I don't believe that at all," he said, getting back a choked cackle. "But-it'll just be easier to tell you at my house. Is-is that okay?"

"Absolutely," Richie answered. "This hooplah ends at four."

"I have a couple drivers picking up your comrades. I'll squeeze you in with someone."

"Sounds good. And, um. Eds?"

"Hmm?"

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring this on you."

"It's fine," Eddie said, clutching his phone so tight his knuckles were white. "Maybe it's time I figure this out."


	2. 2

Eddie sent a mass text out to his drivers, seeing if anyone happened to be already secured for pick up at the convention because a client needed a lift to the office. While he waited for an answer, he fumbled with his keys and sifted through them shakily, finding the one that opened his little locked drawer on his desk. He managed to open it after a few tries, and grabbed his emergency bottle of Xanax. He barely took it anymore, not really-not since his mom died, and not often even with the whole Myra situation. Right now, he didn't care he hadn't taken it in months-he downed two with a cold cup of coffee and locked it back away, sitting quietly until his hands stopped shaking. His phone buzzed back at him, and he swiped the screen to life-Janice, the new girl, would be picking up Nebraska's 'Joey The Hut,' and could squeeze another passenger in. He thanked Janice profusely, then tapped his fingers on the table. _He's a old car buff like me, wants to see my ride_ , he texted Janice. He then shot a text to the number Richie had called him from- _You'll be riding with Joey the Hut? I said you were a car buff. You're coming to see my car._

A couple minutes passed, then the screen lit up.

**Richie:** _oh jesus, that guy. ok. i can handle a ride with joe._  
**Richie:** _hey u want funnel cake? i can bring u back some._  
**Richie:** _really fucking good funnel cake here, eds_  
**Richie:** _wait do u really have another old car?_

Eddie sighed. Of _course_ the guy asks about food after dropping a bombshell on him.

**Eddie:** _Yes to the car. No to the funnel cake._

At least his hands had slowed down.

***************************

Eddie tried to keep himself busy for the next few hours. Officially finalizing the deal for the new cars, mapping out events coming to the area, even vacuuming the cars when they came back, despite them not really needing it. He was in back in his office, just another twenty minutes to go before four o'clock would hit, when he realized he had sent Richie the auto-reply through the app when he gotten to the hotel-but the app was a local thing. Sarah had said Richie had seen the logo and- _shit._ Richie had probably called the office, and he stupidly clicked the reply to the app out of habit for the ride, even though it more than likely had a 'not an app request' all over it. 

But then how did Richie know he was there?

He pulled his phone out and texted him.

**Eddie:** _I just realized you probably don't have our app. I sent a reply that I had arrived to thin air. You weren't waiting in the cold for me, were you?_  
**Richie:** _confirmations come through texts, eds_  
**Richie:** _i did call tho_  
**Richie:** _r u thinking of poor lil' old me shivering in the cold?_  
**Eddie:** _Our confirmations come through texts?_  
**Richie:** _yes? did u not know that? maybe u need a vacation, cutie_  
**Richie:** _i hear l.a. is nice ;)_

Eddie grumbled. He honestly hadn't known that. Dan must had updated the app at some point to do that, but he'd talk about it later. Right now, Eddie wanted to look up Richie-discreetly. He opened a private browsing window on his laptop and began searching for 'The Mouth' and 'Sirius XM,' landing on an official website. Clicking it, he was brought to a page that had an incredibly handsome picture of Richie on it-the Richie he had picked up earlier had been sporting a neat, rectangle framed pair of glasses that had magnified his eyes just a bit, but he wasn't wearing them in the photo. "Looks cuter with them," Eddie said out loud, then mentally shushed himself, even though the door was closed. In the photo, Richie was also wearing an old pair of large headphones around his neck, his hair looking even darker since it was a black and white photo, the close up of him showcasing the small spatter of freckles he had across his nose and cheeks. His mouth had a small strip of duct tape across it with the classic cartoon symbols indicating swearing scrawled along the length , but Eddie could still tell Richie was smiling a bit underneath it, and in his hand, he held an old-fashioned looking microphone. 

He peered at the link page-apparently besides a radio show, he did a weekly podcast, both which had been uploaded to youtube. He didn't dare play a video right now-he settled for the link that had said 'bio' on it.

_Richie 'The Mouth' Tozier was born naked, and if he does it right, will die naked, too. Spending most of his childhood in the Northeast and thoroughly ruining it, he made his way to California, taking classes at UCLA until he had to become this thing called an 'adult,' and graduated with a degree. He also suggests using Degree, which has not offered to be a sponsor, but he would like to know they've kept his unnaturally ape-like hairy armpits sweat free for the past ten years. Besides doing radio and mindlessly chattering to himself on his podcast, Richie has loaned his voice to several cartoons on Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network, but his dream role is to do that whole 'near/far' bit with Grover on Sesame Street, because he's **fairly** sure he could beat him at it, seeing as he's blind as a bat with an eye patch and has struggled to figure out where he is most of his life when he doesn't have his contacts in, therefore gaining incredible super senses of how close he is to something. He's also done stand up at several clubs, which he seems to do when no one fucking asked him to, and has lent his pure, raw dramatic acting talent as 'Snarky Patron Number Four' that one time on **Gossip Girl** when they did a couple episodes in California for whatever reason. He was robbed of an Emmy for this. Richie lives in the Los Angeles area, with his loving cat Eunice and a swimming pool he can actually fit his gangly limbs in. His parents live in Florida, presumably to be as far away as they can from their loud, weird, giraffe-hybrid son._

Eddie couldn't help but laugh. He had no idea Richie had done all that-and he still caught cartoons here and there-but he admittedly never caught the names of voice actors. Now he was curious which ones Richie had done. He glanced through more of the links, itching to click his taped stand up bits, or his podcast uploads, but instead he went for the 'gallery' section. Richie was posed gleefully with a few people in some, people Eddie were assuming members of bands he didn't know. He canned through them, looking at Richie's cheesy grin, or in most cases, the goofy face he was pulling. The last few photos were of Richie holding what had to be the _tiniest_ orange tabby kitten Eddie had ever seen. Pictures of Richie bottle feeding her, kissing her head, smiling brightly as the tiny thing was curled into his neck sleeping-they littered the last few shots in the photo gallery, eventually ending on what must have been a more recent picture-a still small- yet -adult sized cat with bright green eyes smooshing her face against Richie's. This had to be Eunice, and quite frankly, it was the cutest fucking thing Eddie had ever seen in his life. He wanted to ask Richie about her, but knew he couldn't-he didn't want to let Richie know he had been snooping around on his website. 

A soft knock on the door jolted Eddie from his screen, and he quickly closed out of it. "Yeah?"

The door opened a bit and Sarah poked her head in. "Janice is pulling up with one Mister Mouth in tow," she said, grinning. Eddie looked at the time on his laptop. Had he really been sitting there that long looking at Richie's website?

"Oh. I'll meet him outside, thanks. I'm taking off early. I-I can't drive tonight, okay? If there's an emergency, I won't be avail-i-why are you _smiling_ like that?"

"I'm not! No reason!" Sarah snickered, trying to once again unsuccessfully hide her face behind a piece of paper. Eddie pursed his lips at her. Sarah had caught on really quick that the Myra thing wasn't a thing he wanted to be part of, and often was the one to drag Eddie to places where no one would know them to dance-and let him dance with _guys_. He absolutely knew where her mind had gone. 

"I'm not fucking him, Sarah," he hissed, cheeks slightly turning pink. "We're looking at my car!"

"Whatever you say, boss," she answered, holding her hands up in mock protest. "I'll make sure anything that comes up tonight is handled by someone not showing a guy their _car_ all night." Eddie shot her a glare while she bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, grabbing his things as Sarah quietly giggled. "Remind me why I hired you?"

"You love me," she cooed at him. She was right, he really did. She seemed to just _get_ him and this whole situation.

"...I'll text you."

"Better be an eggplant emoji," she said. Eddie's face burned hot as she burst into laughter. He playfully knocked a stack of papers off her desk, but grabbed her shoulder in a loving way. The car pulled to the front of the doors, and Eddie took a breath, walking outside.

************************************************************

"I do declare! Didn't you just see lil' ol' me, Mister Kay?" Richie's southern Belle accent rang loud through the lot as he stepped out of the car. Eddie noticed he had found a hoodie to wear. "Why, is this to mean you'll be asking Paw for my hand? Oh! The life we'll have, I must say, Mr. Kay." Eddie shot a sympathetic glance to Janice, who looked exhausted. He leaned in to her driver's side window.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, watching Richie spin in circles, still doing the accent, now focusing on the cars and babbling away about them. "I'll make sure you get paid double." Richie made his way over to them, and gently sat himself on top of the car's hood.

"Sugar dumplin', are we gonna go get vittles? We can talk about what we'll name the children. Do y'all like Eds Junior? I do think they all should be named after their daddy!"

"Triple," Eddie shot back to Janice, and grabbed Richie off the hood to pull him towards the employee parking lot. "Fucking hell. How much Funnel cake did you have?"

Richie dropped the accent. "Just three of them! I could have gone for four, but they refused to sell me more."

"Sounds about right," Eddie replied. He noticed he was still holding on to Richie's arm, and dropped it. "Um. My car is just over here. It's the turquoise one." He pointed in the direction of his spot, and Richie's eyes following. 

"That thing?? That's your car?" Richie took off running-sprinting, even-towards Eddie's vehicle, and stood by it, whistling and rubbing the roof. Eddie had to jog a little to catch up to him. "You are a beaut," Richie said, kissing the car's side mirror.

"Oh, that is just _gross._ Do you know how many bug guts you probably just inhaled?"

"Do you know how many bugs we eat unknowingly? Look up red dyes in food. Or peanut butter. Little bit of protein never hurt anyone!" He joyfully rocked on his heels, waiting for Eddie to unlock the doors.

"Ugh. No thanks. Ignorance is bliss. Okay, I'm gonna unlock your side, and if you would, could you unlock mine?" He stuck the key in the lock, and opened the door for Richie, who immediately stretched over into the driver's side and fiddled with Eddie's door. Eddie rounded his way around to his seat, slamming the door and clicking his seat belt on. His hand started to slowly shake again, rattling the keys that were clutched in them.

"Eds? Everythi-"

"Why did you call me?" Eddie's voice was small, smaller than he had ever heard it. "Is this-is this some sort of thing you do for your shows? Pranks? Because this is heavy, Richie. This is some heavy shit in my life, and I'm not about to be made fun of for it." His hand was shaking violently now, out of his control.

"Hey. _Hey_ ," Richie softly said, grabbing Eddie's forearm to steady it. "This isn't a Prank, I'm-"

[ _What the fuck is that?_ ]

[ _I don't fucking **know!**_ ]

Eddie heard the words clear as day when Richie had gripped his arm. He could feel himself go pale, not understanding what had just happened. It was as if someone had yelled the words through a megaphone right next to his ear, but apparently, only he heard them. Richie hadn't noticed his face yet, looking out of his side of the car. He was still talking.

"-and I don't do those sort of things, Eddie. I called you because I-I don't _know_. When I mentioned school, you tensed up, and I kinda dropped it because I had figured maybe you had a shit time. I know not everyone has a fun time in school, so that's why I began talking about how I didn't remember things from those days, but then something just...clicked when you said you didn't remember, either. Like...I genuinely threw up when I got thinking about the whole thing in that place. I can't remember where the hell I'm from, except Maine. Can't remember teachers. My house. My friends. The street I grew up on. And you...seemed like you couldn't, either. Even before I called you to ask. I can't explain it, just that little bit you offered sat with me, you know? And just....fuck. Something is there, right? And I guess I just-I wanted to talk to someone-that understood what's happening to me-because it's honestly just... _eating_ me up, and-" he turned his face to Eddie, his eyebrows shooting up in concern. "Holy shit, you okay? You look sick."

Eddie managed to get the key in the ignition and start the car. "I'm going to tell you, right now, that this is serious, okay? Let me just...tell you this. Just hang tight and be quiet, and no voices or jokes. Got it?"

"Got it." 

"Alright. I'll try to make it quick."

**********************************************

 

"I came here right before my senior year of high school," he started, driving along. "When I transferred to school here, I was still a minor, so my mom was the one that took care of all the medical stuff. I had to get a physical, and she's the one that handed over all the records from Maine to them, to show I was up to date on vaccinations and all that. But then when college started, I was eighteen by then, so I figured I'd just give the college my medical records myself. I could then. And they called me and said my doctor's office had only sent what my last physical said, but none of my childhood vaccinations. They asked if I could either contact my high school to resend, or the old school where I had gone. Then the lady casually asked me where I _had_ gone before moving to Vermont. Just conversation, right? And my mind was just blank. I could not for the **life** of me remember my old school, even though I had only been in Vermont for less than a year." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel nervously. "I was a mess. I don't even remember what I blurted out, but it was enough to get her off the phone. I ended up calling the doctor and they fixed it. Or so I thought. They kept forgetting to send certain parts of my record, and over and over again, I kept getting calls to rectify the situation. And over and over again, the person on the other line would ask me where I had gone before Vermont, and I had nothing. I-I thought I was losing my mind, Richie. I really did. But then, one day, I was cleaning out some old boxes I hadn't unpacked from the move, and I found it. This...agenda thing. It had 'seventh grade' written across it, and it had the school name on it. I guess it was supposed to be used for writing down homework assignments in, but there was nothing but doodles here and there all in it. I called up the college and told them the name, and got it settled at last. I stuck that baby under my bed in a box to keep handy. And I figured, that's that, I must have just been stressed from college, I changed my mind three times what I was going to take to make my mom happy. It was just stress, and now I remembered."

Eddie stopped at a red light and waited for the light to change so he could go left, onto his road. "Then I changed doctors. And the old doctor did it again. Forgot to send over all the shit I needed, and...I forgot the school. **Again.** This was literally two months after I found the book and let the college know." The light turned green, and Eddie made his way down his street. 

"I thankfully remembered I kept the agenda under my bed. I got it squared away-again-but by this time, I was convinced I had a brain tumor or something. It sounds ridiculous, I know. But my mom...my mom was convinced I had everything wrong with me. She took worrying and paranoia to a new level. I never mentioned the memory loss to her, and I was afraid to even ask my doctor for help, because my mail still got delivered to her even with me living on campus... and she was the type that absolutely opened all my mail. And I didn't need her to know I had been through an MRI, or some brain test, because she would have made me drop out of school immediately and drag me to every doctor in every state until one would sign off that I was dying, or some bullshit like that. I couldn't do it. It became like this... weird never-ending cycle of me panicking that I suddenly thought of my old school but couldn't remember the name, and then just-forgetting about it completely. Rich, when I read the name off the agenda over the phone to the doctor, and put the book away...and I immediately forgot what I had just read. I couldn't just...grasp the information. And then. Then..." He paused, clearing his throat. "My _mom_ was the one who had the brain tumor. I was twenty-one. She had a small stroke during my junior year, and they found out she had a small spot in there. It ended up being small spots in just about every organ. And she was stubborn-so goddamn stubborn, she took two years to die, but those last few months, she-she forgot shit constantly, and that reminded me of my own problems. How I couldn't remember things, either. And that sealed it for me. I was so sure I had a brain tumor, too. I even thought at some point it was something-something in the house we were living in, because Ma had got it, so I probably got it. That's how fucking freaked out I was. And after she died, I immediately went to the doctor and he agreed to do all these tests on me. And. Nothing, Richie. There was _nothing._ I didn't have cancer. I didn't have any neurological disease. I just had trouble remembering my past, to which he suggested a therapist. Who then told me that maybe I'm purposely blocking out something, because maybe something bad happened to me. And, honestly? I don't know if that's what it is. It feels like...they're right, but damned if I can pinpoint what was so damn bad I can't even remember the name of the school I attended when I just had the name of it staring me in the face."

Eddie let out a breath, relieved to get it all off his chest. A comfortable silence passed for a few moments when Richie spoke up.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Y-yeah."

"Do you really live out here? It's fucking breathtaking!"

"Really? I just poured my heart out to you, and you're looking at the scenery?"

"I'm sorry, but it's true! It's so cute out here! Just like you! It's fitting," Richie emphasized, giving Eddie a soft smile. 

"Did you even listen to anythi-"

"I went to a therapist, too. I got the same thing you did. Something bad probably happened in your youth, you just gotta work through this block, yadda yadda, all that shit. They recommended regression therapy, like....hypnotizing me to remember. Tapping into some deep vibes to jog my memory. But I passed. I figured if it was that bad my mind nope'd out, it doesn't need to be dragged back up." 

Eddie sucked on his bottom lip. "That's actually a smart thought. Maybe...maybe I shouldn't try to figure this out. Maybe it's a bad idea?"

"Well, I'm here in your car, coming to your house, because you had something to show me, so you better make up your mind what you want, unless you're actually just taking me to a ditch."

Eddie tapped his index finger in a quiet rhythm on the wheel. "I still keep the agenda under my bed. I was-I was thinking I get it out, and maybe-maybe you might remember something? You said you think you grew up near where I did, maybe our schools played against each other in games. Like maybe it'll awaken your...aura or whatever?"

Richie snort-laughed. "Eds, your aura has nothing to do with your memories."

"Well, I don't know what weird shit goes on in Los Angeles!" He could feel Richie's smile on him and couldn't help but smile too. "Okay, I'm just up here. You want to look at it? We don't have to if you don't want to-"

"This is your house? Holy fuck," Richie awed as they pulled closer. Eddie's house was a decent sized log-cabin looking home, complete with a covered porch, a rocking chair, and a small little chimney. "Is _everything_ you own adorable? I'm getting cavities looking at everything you have. Hold off on showing me your dick. My dental insurance doesn't kick in until next month." 

Eddie stared at Richie. "I don't think 'adorable' is really the word to describe a dick."

"So prove me wrong," Richie purred, looking back up at the house. Eddie was glad he did, because he could feel his face warm up. Before he could shoot back a witty remark, Richie was bounding out of Eddie's car before he even got it fully in park, sprinting to the rocking chair and heaving himself in it. He immediately hopped up, his yelp heard even by Eddie, who was still in the car.

"Christ! That's cold as hell," Richie yelled to Eddie when he left his seat.

"Congratulations. You've learned how Autumn works in Vermont. It's barely fifty out right now." Eddie reached the porch and tapped on the thermometer he had outisde. 

"But I wanted to rock," Richie pouted.

"I have a glider-recliner thing inside. That work?"

Richie beamed. "As good as my balls."

"Jesus Christ. Just get inside already."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So I realized in the first chapter I kinda hopped back and forth between sounding like Richie had called the office to get a ride, but then sounding like Richie used the app to get a car when Eddie arrived and auto-replied. which, in my mind, wouldn't make sense since the app isn't like Uber or Lyft, it's their own local thing that I couldn't see downloading just for one ride. I tried to clear it up a bit here to rectify that.)


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just a quick notice: there is a quick mention of possible sexual assault, but it's nothing graphic and not long at all, and it's roughly midway in the story. Just wanted to give a heads up for those who wish to skip it!)

One of the first things Eddie noticed was that Richie's hands liked to touch _everything._ He ran his fingers across his countertops, rubbed his hands up his walls, delicately brushed the lampshades, flicked the light switches off and on, and smoothed the fabric of his couch and chair. 

"You pet everything at _your_ house like this?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I already _know_ what my house feels like. I'm just taking all this in. Okay, wait, no. You have an electric fireplace here, but you have a chimney outside. You don't have a real one?"

Eddie cocked his head to a doorway off the living room. "In there."

Richie bounded to it, and gave a quick look inside. It was a small reading room, only slightly wider than the fireplace sitting there. Small bookshelves littered the walls, with a overstuffed chair and tiny table nestling near the opposite end of the fireplace.

"Oh, my God. Eds. This is adorable."

"Okay, seriously. Stop with the 'adorable' stuff. You're making me sound like a ninety-year old grandma."

Richie grinned at him. 'You make that sound like a bad thing. What color is this paint, anyway? Mauve? Dusty Rose?"

"It's supposed to be salmon," Eddie grumbled, but the corner of his lip curled in a small smile, making Richie laugh. The color he had painted it was not what he had envisioned, but it kept it all the same. Richie turned back and ran his hands over the doorframe, and Eddie noticed then just how _big_ Richie's hands were. A vision of how one would feel on the small of his back entered his mind, a better one on how they would feel on the back of his neck to pull him close to Richie's face intruded his brain next. He mentally shook it away.

_Jesus, we don't even know him! Calm down!_

_And yet, we invited him here, genius!_

"So where's this book?" Richie's question snapped Eddie out of his thoughts.

"Oh, uh. Yeah. Hold on." He took his phone out of his pocket and opened the GrubHub app, handing it over to Richie. "Might as well order some food while you're here. My treat."

"Wha-no! Come on, I don't need-"

"Look, I dragged you out here, I owe you _something._ Scroll through and pick something out, I'll order whatever you pick. I'm gonna go change and grab the book. Help yourself to whatever you want in the fridge to drink, all right?"

Richie sighed. "Fine. But I'm sitting in your glider." He hurled himself into it, rolling smoothly back and forth. "Nice," he complimented, gazing at Eddie's screen.

"I'll be back. Let me know what you find." Eddie took off for his bedroom, closing the door behind him a bit, and stripped off his work clothes. He peered in his dresser and closet, trying to find something casual, but not too, 'It's barely past five and I'm getting into pajamas already' level of comfortable. He decided on a warm pair of lounge pants-dark gray with a little marvel logo on one side of the hip, and a black t-shirt. He strolled into his little three-quarter bathroom that was connected to his bedroom and quickly checked himself over. He made sure his hair looked neat, checked to see if anything was in his teeth, swished with a bit of mouthwash, skipped cologne to not smell _too_ eager for having Richie over, but decided a extra spray of deodorant was okay to do. He was gently going over the oilier parts of his face with a cotton ball dabbed in witch hazel when he heard Richie yell from the hallway.

"Hey, how's this Thai place? Any good?"

Eddie threw the cotton ball in the trash. " _Fantastic_ ," he answered, coming out to his bedroom. "I order at least three times a month."

"Okay, good, because I already added like three dishes to this thin-Holy shit, your bathtub is huge!" Eddie opened his door back up to see Richie down the hallway, peering into the main bathroom. " **I** could fit in that thing! Why the fuck did I not spring for that instead of a swimming pool?" He stuck his head out to face Eddie. "Do you not use this? There's barely anything in here."

"My room and the guest room have their own little three-quarter bathrooms."

"...I have _no_ idea what that means."

"Sink, toilet, standing shower. I don't soak often, so I tend to use my little one more. Come on. The book is in here." He made his way to his bed and sunk to his hands and knees, peering under it until he spotted the medium-sized box. He pulled it out and brushed the lid free of dust, and popped it open.

_Welcome To Derry_ , the cover greeted him. Derry. Every time he had to look up that name again, it was if someone was smacking him in the back of the head for forgetting, because it was such an easy name. A picture of a school merged with a picture of an old map of the town graced the front, and he ran his fingers over it before looking up at Richie, who was standing over him, and held it out.

" _Derry_. Jesus, you'd think I'd remember something simple like that. Here. Maybe this will help?" 

 

Richie's face turned blank, expressionless. He handed Eddie his phone back, and Eddie began to browse through it himself, trying to decide if he wanted to get the dumplings he always did or something new for once. He lifted himself to his feet, clicking the item to the order, and decided he wanted to add some noodles, too. He got to the rice dishes. "You want to share some coconut rice? It's really good, and-" Richie's face still stared at the agenda, his fingers tracing the cover over and over, slowly. "Rich? You alright?"

Without tearing his eyes away, Richie began walking with the book, out the hallway, and towards the living room. Eddie followed, calling his name a couple times, but it didn't seem to register with Richie. Eddie watched him forgo the glider chair and sit on the couch, looking down at the book in his hands.

"Derry started as a beaver trapping camp," Richie stated flatly. His face turned, as if he was surprised the sentence had come from his mouth.

"Did it? I don't remember that," Eddie said, sitting next to Richie.

Richie blinked, opening the front of the book and leafing through a couple pages. "Wait. No. The back," he whispered, suddenly flipping through the laminated pages on the back of the agenda. Most of them looked to be school rules and codes, but Richie halted when he got to certain spot, and slapped the book down on Eddie's coffee table, hard. It was a scanned picture, black and white, with the words _**Welcome, Seventh Graders!**_ at the top. Richie's pointer finger ran over it furiously, muttering words to himself Eddie couldn't quite make out. His finger stopped abruptly, and Eddie felt like the air in the room had been sucked right out.

"Son of a bitch," Richie hoarsely croaked, his finger still on the photo. Eddie gently moved Richie's hand, to see what his finger was on, and let out a soft gasp.

There was no denying the boy he had stopped on was Richie himself, even with a dozen years passed. His glasses were bigger, the hair was tamer, and he was shorter-he was second from the left on just the second row,-but it was absolutely him, and as if he craved the confirmation, Richie scanned the names that had been listed underneath. "Richard Tozier," Richie coughed out. "Fuck me **twice.** We were in the same school."

Eddie had never bothered flipping to the back of the agenda before. He had always been more interested in the damn name on the front more than anything, and since the first few pages were just scribbles, he never thought to even explore it further-or if he did...

_What if I looked and I don't remember?_

"Here. Here you are," Richie tapped. Eddie was in the front row, fourth from the right, with a boy behind him with a sweet face and insanely curly hair slyly giving him bunny ears. 

"Wait, who the fuck is doing that?" Eddie eyed the names and found who'd be behind him: _Stanley Uris_

Stanley Uris? Eddie's mind whirred, trying to place who this kid was-did he know him when he was in seventh grade? Was he friends with this kid behind him? Did he-did he and Richie- _know_ who this guy was?

[ _You're not my friends! You made me go into Neibolt!_ ]

Eddie jumped at the crystal clear voice again. Richie closed the book, rubbing his hands over his face. "Yes," he finally said.

"Yes... what?"

"Yes, I will share coconut rice with you. I-I'm going to get a drink. Is it okay to open that Port in your fridge? I'd rather fucking down those bottles of hard liquor on your counter right now, but I don't dare, because I won't stop."

"Y-yeah. I'll have a glass, too." He didn't want to over-do it, having took the Xanax earlier, but his heart had sped up again. "I'm gonna place this order. It'll be like, half an hour."

Richie hummed in response, making his way to Eddie's kitchen and grabbing the bottle from the fridge. "Opener? Glasses?"

"Opener is in the second drawer on the left, glasses are up in the cupboard door right above it."

Richie fumbled around for the items, popped the cork and poured the wine, bringing the glasses over. Eddie took his with a nod, and Richie sat down next to him, sipping slowly. "What now, Eds?"

"I guess we...try to remember...why we forgot?"

Richie swallowed. "My...therapist ...I had said they thought maybe something traumatic happened is why I forgot, and...Eds...do you think you I and I were...hurt? By a teacher or someone at school?"

Eddie frowned, mind racing. "Are you asking if someone...touched us? Like, in a...uh..."

"Yeah," Richie said, sipping more wine. "Do you think a pervert may have...Jesus, is this why we _both_ forgot?"

"No," Eddie quickly answered, putting his glass down. "I...I don't know why we can't remember, but I don't get the feeling it's because someone did _that_. I can't explain how I know, but...I just don't think that's why."

Richie paused, mulling Eddie's answer over. "Yeah-yeah, I don't think that's why either. Could we have been bullied?"

"So bad we _both_ forgot?"

"I don't know. It's so... I...Wait. You have social media shit, right? Twitter and Facebook? Instagram? All that, right?"

Eddie nodded. "Yeah, personal ones. And then ones for the business."

"Have _any_ of those people requested to friend you? That you remember?"

Eddie bit his bottom lip, thinking. "Can I see that book again?" Richie slid it over, and Eddie opened it back up to the page with the picture, looking at the name list. "Nobody's really jumping out at me."

"Me either. Is that not fucking _weird_? I mean, I'm annoying, I get that. But at the least, Facebook is the place your old classmates add you no matter how much of an asshole you were. So how the hell has no one added me? Or you?"

Eddie sipped out of his glass. "Are you saying...no one remembers **us** specifically?"

Richie closed the book again. "I don't know. What if-what if no one remembers _anybody?_ Or anything? I cant recall my parents _ever_ bringing the town of Derry up when I got to California and they made their way south to Florida. At all. Never even a, 'remember back in third grade,' story. I can bank money that if I called them up right now and asked what school I went to before college, they'd struggle to remember, too." Richie looked at Eddie weakly. "Did your parents? Remember, I mean?"

Eddie tapped a finger on the side of his glass. "Well, my dad...he died when I was pretty young, but mom...you know...I don't know? She never said anything when we got here. That I can-huh. No. No, honestly, I don't think she _did_. I-holy shit. What the hell is up with that town?"

Richie snickered a little. "Great. Now we sound like a YouTube conspiracy channel."

"Ten places in Maine to go you'll instantly forget," Eddie remarked with a laugh.

"Christ. This is pretty damn deep, Eds. Hope you don't mind if my brain checks out over here for a minute."

"As long as mine can join yours," he answered. "Wanna watch something to just-not freak out anymore?"

Richie perked up. "Yeah! Whatcha got saved? Anything good?" Eddie turned on his television, mounted over his fake fireplace, and flipped to his saved shows. "Well, I'm not sure what you're into, but, there's a few things he-"

"You have Brooklyn Nine-Nine? I fucking **love** that show!"

"The whole series," Eddie added.

"That! That, that, that, that!"

Eddie laughed. "Brooklyn Nine-Nine it is."

***************

Their food arrived not long after the first episode was over, and now another few episodes in, they had made themselves comfortable sprawled on the couch with their food spread on the coffee table. Richie had flopped his legs across Eddie's lap, his socked feet resting on the arm of the couch past Eddie. He had been right earlier-Richie _was_ wearing mismatched socks-one orange one with pizza slices, and one green with alien heads all over them. 

Eddie would be lying if he said he hadn't been enjoying Richie's company. Richie was _funny_ -really funny. He did accents and jokes and impressions that got the both of them in stitches, and Eddie shared stories of the weirdest customers the car service had picked up that got them going into fits of giggles. Eddie could see why Richie was a well-liked personality out there in Los Angeles. He could also see how, well- _handsome_ he was. Richie wasn't exactly a Greek God or anything, but he was attractive- **pretty** damn attractive. He still was bundled in the hoodie he must have bought from Target, but had kept the shorts, where Eddie could see how pale he was despite living in California- but the freckles that littered his legs were adorable. There were literally clusters of the tan spots here and there, even on his knees. His hair was such a inky dark black, too-it was that rich, dark black that almost had a blue cast to it that would make you think he may have dyed it. His eyes were roughly the same shade as Eddie's own-both seemed to have deep brown eyes, but while Eddie's had a bit of a gold hue, Richie's had just a tinge of green. He seemed to look seven feet tall sprawled out across Eddie's couch, but he figured he was more than likely closer to roughly six foot one, maybe two-which to Eddie's five-seven (and a half!), he looked gigantic. Richie also had such this easy going smile-his teeth weren't perfectly white, but they were just...pleasant looking. Eddie had wondered if he had gotten work done, but if he had, they looked pretty natural. And while he had teased Eddie earlier about having young looking skin, Richie honestly looked no older than he did. Eddie thought that Richie had been one of the best looking guys he'd seen in a long, long time.

He also cursed himself for having _zero_ sense of gaydar. He blamed it on all the years he happily danced outside the closet, only to suck himself back into it with the promise of a business expansion. Richie kept dropping words like 'cutie,' 'baby,' 'sweetie,' and the like. And hell, his legs were _in his damn lap_ , but he could not tell for the life of him if this was geniune flirting, or just Richie's personality. At this point, if Richie made any sort of move that showed he was even just five percent interested, Eddie would have dragged him into the bedroom-the _guest_ bedroom that Myra wanted him to keep meticulous just for her-and let Richie fuck him sideways all night on her precious eight hundred thread-count Egyptian cotton bullshit sheets until he forgot what day it was.

"Hey, Eds?" Richie's question snapped Eddie out of his dirty thoughts. "Who's most like your exes on here?"

"My-the show?"

"Yeah! Anyone you dated like someone on the show?"

Eddie took a bite of a dumpling and thought. "I'm not sure," he said, after he swallowed. "I'd need some time to think about it. You?"

"Amy was a lot like a girl I was with a long, long time ago," Richie said, chewing. "Very cautious, very organized. But hilarious. Sweet. Fierce as hell, and could kick some ass when needed. Boyle was like the last guy I dated. A little over eager, but meant well. Unfortunately the guy before that was like Hitchcock and Scully mashed together."

_Well, that answers the question about who Richie's into,_ Eddie thought to himself.

"I, uh. There i-was a girl," Eddie began, catching himself before he could say _is_. "I don't think-she uh-to compare her to anyone on this show would be a huge insult to the actors," Eddie stated, earning a snort from Richie as he sucked up noodles. "There was a guy like Terry. His name actually was Terry."

"Ooh! Big and strong?"

Eddie blushed. "Um, yeah. Really gentle. Really kind, but like...a work out buff who was a giant. But I definitely had a Jake in my life. My college boyfriend was a lot like him." Eddie picked up his own box of noodles and began eating them. _Was he? Justin was great, but was he really like Jake? Why did I say that?_

"Oh my God, I _love_ Jake," Richie cooed, sighing. "I could watch Die Hard on repeat."

"You remind me of him a little," Eddie said. _Oh, God! No! You just said your ex was like him! That came out as flirting now! Why the fuck do we keep talking? Stop!_

"You remind me of Amy," Richie shot back, taking a drink of wine.

Eddie snorted. "I'm kinda flattered. I _wish_ I could be as organized and kick some ass as well as her."

"I love that they ended up together, don't you? I called it from the second season that they'd get married."

[ _Eddie's on a lap. He's looking at a small, raised, C-shaped scar on someone's right shoulder, he's been crying, he can feel the tears on his face, the shoulder is soaked with them. A hand is rubbing his back, a voice comes out smooth as silk, quiet and reassuring. **We're gonna get married. I don't care that we're young. I know I want to marry you. I don't care if it takes until I'm eighty, I'll find you. We'll have the biggest wedding you'll ever see. We'll adopt everything from cats to dogs to kids. I love you. I love you more than anything. She can't steal my love from you.** Eddie's tears quiet. He tells the person he loves them too, over and over, that he can't wait to be married. He traces the scar on their shoulder, kissing it, hugging their neck tight, telling the person to spend one more night with them, just spend one more single night-_ ]

The vision Eddie had is gone in a blink, and he drops his chopsticks onto the floor with a jolt.

"You okay?" Richie pauses the show in concern, giving Eddie a worried glance.

"Um. yeah. Something spicy in my noodles, is all." Eddie places the box on the table and Richie moves his legs off so Eddie can get up and grab the chopsticks.

"I thought you got spicy dumplings?"

"I did, but I was **expecting** the spicy in those. Not the noodles!" Richie gives a quiet laugh and resumes the show while Eddie makes his way to the kitchen, tossing the chopsticks away and digging for a fork in his silverware drawer. _What in the fuck was that? It was like watching a movie, holy shit. **Who** the fuck was that? What the fu-_

"Shit, Eds, I should really probably go. I need to be at that thing earlier tomorrow. For some reason, nine on a fucking Tuesday is prime time for conventions. Would Uber have a field day if I call for them here? It won't be too scandalous, right?"

Eddie looks over at Richie, giving a forced small grin. "No, it won't be. I can always call someone from work, though-"

"Nope, your place has way too much going on this week. I refuse. Uber can get me."

"Alright. Um. I can-I'll put the food in the fridge? Unless you want to take some back?"

"Keep it here. I'll pack it up for you. I'll finish it off tomorrow."

Eddie's heart hammers a bit in his chest. _He wants to come back tomorrow? He wants to come back. Tomorrow._

"Al-alright. Can you excuse me for just a second?" Eddie makes his way down the hall, into his bedroom, straight into his small bathroom, and immediately cranks the faucet as cold as he can, splashing his face in it. He tries to settle himself, not exactly working well-the image of what happened has just been so sharp and crisp-like he had his own private movie playing in front of him only he could see. He turns over the image in his head of the scar, of the conversation-Justin never had a scar on his shoulder. He had one on his knee, but not his shoulder, and as serious as they were, he cannot remember ever talking about getting married. They had spilt while his mother was alive, just before she was diagnosed. It wasn't Terry, he thinks. Maybe-maybe he had a vein there? But they had only lasted four months, so it was hard to believe they had ever spoke of marriage. So who the hell had he been talking to? Myra? Holy hell, he didn't think so. He cringed, blotting his face dry with a towel. Part of him wanted to run out and ask Richie to stay, he could feel this weird, nauseous panic starting to wash over him, and really didn't want to be alone-but he also didn't want to drag Richie away from his duty at attending the convention. He took a couple deep breaths, trying to keep himself somewhat together, and walked out to bid Richie goodnight.

Richie was at the door, slipping his shoes on. "Oh, uh, the Uber is like, right down the road apparently, so I'm gonna wait outside. I need some air, anyway. Thanks for dinner. You are absolutely getting funnel cake tomorrow, okay? I swear it's really fucking good." Richie seemed nervous, looking slightly pale.

"Are _you_ okay?" Now it was Eddie's turn to ask.

"Yeah. Yeah! Just...ate too much. Don't know my own stomach sometimes, you know? I'll see ya later, Spaghetti." Richie stopped short at the nickname, looking at Eddie confusedly. Eddie just stared back.

"That is a _terrible_ nickname," Eddie finally uttered out, earning a sheepish look from Richie.

"It fits," Richie shrugged, but still seemed fidgety. "I'll text you?"

"Yeah! Sure. Thanks for putting the food away," but Richie's already out on the porch before his sentence is finished. He notices through the front door window that he's lifting something to his mouth, and Eddie sees a quick lick of flame-Richie's lighting a cigarette, and his hand seems to be trembling. Eddie paces a bit, not wanting to pry, but something has scared Richie, that's obvious by now. He's pacing still when he notices the door to his small reading room is askew, and wanders over to inspect it when he notices the books on the small table beside it have been knocked to the floor.

He can hear a car engine outside and a door slam when he sees there's a dent in his pleather chair, as if someone had been sitting in it. 

The car is already peeling away when he sees the fingernail marks so deep they punctured the arms of the chair.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking forever to update!-I had another WIP I wrote out, real life gets in the way, summer is actually busier for me than other seasons, etc. Also I had this chapter longer in mind, but it was taking too long for me to sit and focus to write out the full thing, so the next will be longer and more detailed. Think of this as a quickie filler before we start getting really into the story.)

He's sitting on a bed, a bed that's covered in a dark blue plaid comforter. He can see this bed, but nothing past him. It's nothing but dark, scary blackness beyond this bed. Eddie speaks softly, playing with a small string on the bedspread.

_Do you hate me?_ , he asks, pitifully, sadly, tears threatening to spill.

His voice seems so small, so far away, but he continues, despite the fear churning in his gut.

Eddie begins to explain.

_It's just... I'll understand if you can't accept this, or me. But I had to tell someone, anyone-_

A voice cuts in. It's gender-less. Robotic, almost. Tinny and far away. It sounds like it's somehow underwater and yet...so. Close.

**I could never hate you. Ever. It's okay. We're not so different, you know?**

Eddie is breathless, shaking. His hands are grasping the comforter on the bed, anticipation brewing in his gut.

_What are you trying to say?_

**"There's nothing wrong with you, if that's what you're worried about. I don't care if you like boys. Don't let her think otherwise.**

A hand grabs him out of the darkness, a wrist shining through the pitch black, a small scar on the outside of the wrist, almost whitening with age, but with a touch of pink to it still lingering.

_You mean that?_ Eddie says in awe to the voice, feeling hopeful.

The feeling of a hand around his own squeezes his. **This town is ugly, Eddie. It's full of backwoods assholes. It's okay. I'm glad you told me.**

_You're okay with this? With me?_

The wrist with the scar clutches tighter. **Of course I'm okay with it.**

A pressure on his cheek tells him he's been kissed there.

_Thank you,_ he says. _I...I was so scared._

**Don't be. I honestly thought that I-that I was the only o-**

Eddie's alarm snaps him out of his dream, making him jump. He groggily presses the button to the 'off' position, and rubs his eyes. He's surprised the alarm actually had to wake him-he's usually the type to be awake ten to fifteen minutes before the alarm even goes off. Eddie lays and contemplates if he even wants to go in to work today, after what happened last night. He had decided not to call or text Richie, figuring Richie would tell him what happened with time-but he's still concerned what spooked him so bad that he took it out on Eddie's chair. The smell of coffee gets his interest in the end-like clockwork, he sets the timer for batch to brew every morning at eight a.m. He rubs at his eyes and crawls out of bed, slipping on a robe as he pads his way to the kitchen.

The dream comes back to him as he's pouring his first cup. It's not the first time he's had the dream, where he's sitting in the dark and confessing to a voice he's gay-but this is the first time he remembers seeing a hand. Or at least, part of a hand. The dream had always been by _feel_ , he always felt the hand grab his, and never saw it, so this was new. He had other dreams he could only remember parts of where it was touch alone-voices that sounded robotic, touching, only seeing parts of things-sometimes, they're sexual in nature. It makes him feel like he's a teenager again, waking up to... _that_ sort of thing.

If he could remember what most of his teenage years where like, of course.

He was halfway through his cup of coffee and digging for a granola bar to eat quickly so he can jump in the shower-he usually showers at night so he can enjoy a cooked breakfast and a longer start to the day before heading to work, but he had been too wound up and took a sleep aid instead-when his phone rings. It's a number he doesn't recognize, but he being the good business owner he is, answers it.

"Eddie Kaspbrak speaking."

"Mr. Kaspbrak? Hey. This is Mike Dollard down at Dollard's Storage. How are you?"

"Good?" Eddie's lost. He knows of the storage place, but is unsure where this conversation is going.

"Mister Kaspbrak-"

"Eddie is fine, please."

"Eddie, I'm calling because I wanted to let you know-well-we have a small unit here that the payment stopped for a couple days ago. You've been really good for my kids during their dances when they needed a ride, I just wanted to give you a heads up that it needs to be cleared out soon, okay? I hate to see it sold off to some jackass looking for treasure like on those shows."

"I'm...what? What unit?" There's shuffling on the end of the line, and Eddie can tell the man is on some sort of computer.

"Unit number two-oh-three. Small little thing, like a three by five. Rented by one Sonia Kaspbrak, paid up front for...five years. That ended. You're the contact to notify if we can't get a hold of her, and we tried for a few days to let her know the rental was coming to an end..."

Eddie blinks in silence. "She's dead," he answers solemnly, still taking in the information.

"Oh. Gosh, sorry Mi-uh, Eddie. I didn't realize..."

"She's _**been**_ dead," Eddie says, thickly. "She passed away about a year and a half ago. You said... _five_ years ago she got this?"

"Yeah," the man says. "By your voice, sounds like you didn't know?"

"No," Eddie says, flatly. Five years ago? That would have been when he was in college still, before the cancer hit her. What the hell did she have to put away in storage? Especially in a tiny space? That she'd pay ahead for? "What are your hours? I can come-I can come pick it all up today-"

"There's no rush, really," the man interjects. Eddie can sense sympathy in his voice.

"It's okay, I insist. I honestly didn't know she had a unit. I want to see what it is. I'll get a truck and swing by around lunch time, alright?" The man mumbled something in response, and Eddie could hear another apology in his tone before they said their goodbyes. He stared at his screen, still surprised at the news. 

_What the hell did she hide from me?_

It was Sarah who first noticed how disheveled Eddie looked when he walked into work five minutes late. "I don't even want to hear it," he warned, knowing she probably thought he was in disarray for other reasons.

"Bad night?" She sounded curious, but uneasy.

"Sort of. Nothing like you're thinking. I got a call this morning. My mother apparently hid away some stuff in a storage unit on me. I'm gonna go and pick it up around lunch, okay?"

"Okay, Eddie. You doing alright?" He bit back a laugh.

"I wish I was, Sarah."

 

Twenty minutes into working, his cell phone rang again. This time, it was Richie. He took a breath in and answered it. "Rich?"

"Eds, you have awards?"

"What?"

"I'm looking at photos on the wall! I didn't see these at your house!"

Eddie chuckled. "They're here in my office, actually. Friendliest business awards."

"Well then, I may just have to sneak my way in there," Richie retorted. There was an awkward silence before he cleared his throat. "Uh, so. Listen, I'm not sure if you, uh. Noticed your reading room last night..."

"I did. You know, if you didn't like the chair, you could have just told me instead of ruining it."

Richie let out a laugh. Eddie smiled at the sound. "Yeah, Eds, sorry. That shade of brown just didn't mesh with your _salmon_. I would have told you, but I figured that'd really grab your attention."

"You wanna talk about it?" Eddie's dropped his voice to barely above a whisper.

"Can you...just give me a second." There was some muffled talking on Richie's end. "Okay. I'm in a secure location under my table."

Eddie grinned. " _That's_ your secure location?"

"You really think anyone's gonna bother a guy hiding under one?" 

"Fair point."

"Alright,so...I went into your reading room last night. I just wanted to sit in your chair, test it out. It's so, you know. Puffy and cute and inviting. So I sit, right? And you have...pictures up on your wall. And I'm just kinda scanning them, looking at them, and I come across one that looks like a family picture-mom, dad, little kid, and..." Eddie can hear Richie trail off, searching for what to say.

"Rich? What happened?"

"I think...I think we were friends, Eds." 

"How so-"

"That _woman_ in the picture. I-Jesus, it was like being transported somewhere-I sound crazy, probably, but-"

"Like you were watching a movie right in front of you," Eddie added.

"You had it too, eh?" Richie sighed before continuing. "I take it that... she was your mom, but it was like-I was there, in this living room, and she -was just screaming at me, calling me a degenerate, calling me _dirty_ , that I shouldn't play with her son, I should go home and take a bath and never come back. I felt like I was only a _kid_ in this...vision? Memory? And this woman, the woman in your picture, was screaming and angry and just full of ugliness...and when I snapped out of it, I had your poor chair in a death grip. Books everywhere. I'm sorry, I don't even remember doing any of it, and-was she-Eddie, was your mom _like_ that?" 

Eddie swallowed heavily. "She could be. Everything and everyone was too dirty, too germ filled. I brought friends home from college, and she'd be on them about washing their hands before I could even introduce them." 

"Christ," Richie mumbled out. "Sorry, Eds. I'll pay for the chair, whatever you need for repairs."

"It's not a big deal, really. It's weird, though. I actually got a call today about her. She hid something from me at a storage unit. I'm picking it up around lunch."

"Oh? Want company?"

_Yes_ , Eddie thought. "No, it's alright. Don't you have a convention to...convench?" 

"Mouth Tozier is _known_ for flaking, Eds. No one will bat an eye if I'm not here for a bit."

"You should really probably stay," Eddie said, unconvincingly.

"I'll see you in a few," Richie responded, hanging up.

 

It was ten minutes before noon when Eddie could hear Richie's voice, even through his closed door. Peeking his head out, Richie had arrived with plates of funnel cake, passing them out to Eddie's employees, cheerily babbling in a English accent as he did so. His eyes met Eddie's. "'Ello love! You came in time, you 'ave! I bring pastries from the East, I do!" He waved a plate. Eddie crept out of his office and gingerly took it. 

"So this is the 'really fucking good' funnel cake I heard about?"

"'Tis, m'lord! And I only had _two_ today, thank you," Richie beamed, winking. Eddie could feel himself almost blush at Richie's face. He busied himself by nibbling on a corner of it. "Well?" Richie looked at Eddie in anticipation.

"It's _okay_. I guess," Eddie smiled, taking another bite.

"Okay? _Okay?_ I will have you know, I am a man of funnel cakes. And that right there, is the best I've had in years. It is a _delight,_ Eds. It's beyond okay!"

Eddie shrugged. "I'm not a big sweets eater. I'll take your word for it."

"You're not a-do I even _know_ you? Who the fuck doesn't like sweets? Can you believe-Sarah, is this true? Your boss doesn't like sweets?" Richie continued to fake outrage at the laughter of the office as Eddie grabbed his things and polished off the cake. 

"I'll be back, Sarah. I'll let you know what goodies I find. Rich? You ready?"

"I can't believe I'm riding with a dessert hater. My whole being is revolting against this!" Eddie held the door open for him and Richie scoffed. "Who doesn't eat sugar? **Really!** " They made their way to to Eddie's car.

"How'd you get here, anyway?" Eddie wiped at his face, trying to get any sugar dust off.

"I took Lyft this time. I'm just racking up gossip riding here without using your cars, you know." Richie stopped Eddie and looked at him. "I do believe I've become your mistress, Sir Eds," he said. He lifted his hand and softly wiped at the corner of Eddie's mouth with his thumb. "Still got a little sugar on ya, sugar." Eddie could have honestly let Richie touch his face forever, until one of his employees called out.

"Hey, Mister Kaspbrak! Having a good day today?" Eddie jumped at the voice, turning wildly towards it. It was an older employee, Josh, making his way inside. 

"Just fine, Josh. You doing good?"

"Great! Tell Myra I said hi, okay?"

_Ohhhhhhhhh, shit. He didn't._

"Alright," Eddie called back weakly, wishing he could burn lasers into Josh's head through his steely gaze alone. Josh kept his pace to the office building.

Richie looked at him inquisitively. "Who's Myra?"

"Family," Eddie answered. "...Cousin. She comes to visit here and there. You ready to go? My plan is to get a van from U-Haul and see what I'm dealing with."

"Can I drive the van? I'm sick of riding everywhere here." 

"I don't see why not," Eddie said.

 

Eddie soon _saw_ why not. "Do you always drive like a fucking maniac?"

"Dude, I barely get to drive fast at all! Nothing but traffic where I live!" Richie took a turn a little to quick for Eddie, Eddie clinging to handles near his side of the rental van door. "Where's this place?"

"Just up ahead, just up-right there! Stop! **Rich, stop**!" Richie slowed quickly and made a hard right into the storage unit's lot. He wobbly got out, hands on knees, taking deep breaths. "Jesus Christ, Richie. I just wanted to see what my mom left behind, not meet up with her to see how the afterlife's been treating her."

Richie climbed out of the driver's seat. "Oh, for fuck's sake, we're here and in one piece, Eds Spagheds. Live a little!"

"We almost didn't, numb nuts!"

"Mmm, I disagree, that little drive on these rocky roads definitely got _something_ humming down th-"

"Can I help you two?" A man had wandered his way out to the lot, looking at he and Richie in concern.

"Kaspbrak. Eddie. Here to take what's in the unit my mom had? Two zero three?"

"Ahh, yeah. Hiya. Follow me. It's just over here. She put a combination lock on it, but-if you don't know what it could be, I have cutters. Again, I apologize for not knowing about your...circumstances."

"It's fine, honestly." The three men reached a small door. Eddie looked at the old lock, thinking to himself.

The owner spoke up. "You want me to give it a snip?" Eddie could hear Richie hold back a snicker.

Eddie fiddled with the lock face, seeing if it would turn. It did, slowly. He quickly turned the dial-ten, fifteen, forty. The lock creakily clicked open.

"How in the _fuck,_ Eds..."

"Her dad's birthday," Eddie said. "October Fifteenth, Nineteen-Forty. Always made it her combo lock numbers or passwords." He took the lock in his hands and handed it to Mister Dollard. He eyed Richie. "Can you give me a hand with the door?" Richie made his way closer and grabbed the bottom of the roll-top door with him, and they both lifted at once, revealing the contents inside.

A double drawer, plastic rolling bin.

And that was _it._

"Seriously?" Both Eddie and Richie grunted it out at the same time. Eddie took a step inside the tiny unit, looking around for anything else in there. He came up empty. He glanced down at the bin-the top drawer looked like it was filled with file folders, the bottom looked like it had just a shoe box inside. The whole thing was dusty, but in shape. It barely reached the height of his thighs. 

"What the hell is so important she stashed _this_?" 

 

Richie helped him haul the thing inside the van and then back into Eddie's car-it didn't weigh much, and Eddie still couldn't figure out what the deal was with it. His mom had died with most expenses covered, her belongings given to her family, so it was still a mystery she had rented a storage unit just for a small roller bin. "You gonna go through it tonight?" 

Richie;s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Yeah. Later on. I'm gonna go back to work, first. Whatever's in it can wait. Probably just old bills."

"You never know," Richie offered. "Something good could be in there."

"It's just... weird," Eddie said, getting in the car. Richie followed, Eddie had promising him a ride back to the center on his way to work. "She told me everything. Like... _bowel_ habits, Rich. And she never told me about the storage unit. She paid for five years worth of storage up front."

"Shit," Richie said, meekly. "Do you think...stuff from...Derry is in there?"

"Oh. Never thought about that. Maybe?"

"Then I'm looking at it with you. No offense Eds my sweet, but if it involves Derry, it involves me, too. We gotta dig for our gold, matey!"

"Some fucked up treasure hunt this is," Eddie sighed out, driving away.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (hello! I'm finally back with a new chapter! Summer is kicking my ass! Hopefully with Fall coming, i can get this story finished-I have about maybe 5-6 more chapters in mind that I may shorten to 4. Thanks for being so patient with me!)

Eddie had ducked out early from work and decided to make his way over to the convention center. The place had dwindled down a bit when he got there, but the food stands stayed open longer for the disc jockeys, and Richie insisted on taking Eddie around to all the ridiculous treat ones, making him try everything. "There's no way _no one_ doesn't eat sweets, Edward," he chided. "You just haven't met the one you like yet. Besides, my work is paying for everything here. We aren't going stop until you find _something_ you like."

Eddie could not get over just how much sugar Richie could _actually_ consume. He felt like his teeth would disintegrate on taste test number three, while Richie happily shoved mouthfuls of cotton candy and chocolate chews in his mouth. They stopped by a stand that sold actual dinner food and what Eddie ended up liking was their candied carrots-carrot slices that basically had a light caramel coating. "Figures it'd be something with a vegetable, Eds," Richie teased, but ate a bowlful along with him.

And now, Richie was helping Eddie carry the roller bin up his porch. Eddie actually wasn't lifting a thing-Richie just picked it up and carried it himself. _It's six something already,_ Eddie thought. _Richie doesn't have to be in until noon tomorrow...I could always come in late...his work is paying for his hotel anyway, so maybe I should see if he wants to stay the night?_ Richie whirled around and smiled at Eddie, waiting for him to unlock the front door. 

_Oh, my God, what are we doing? Stop it! Not like **that!**_

Richie gave a nod to him as he swung the door open. "Thanks, cutie."

_Shit. Maybe like that._ Eddie followed in behind him.

Richie plopped the roller bin down in the living room. "So? Where do you even wanna start? Which drawer?"

Eddie hummed. "The bottom looks just like a shoe box in it. Let's look in that first, then get to the files on the top." Eddie quickly grabbed a paper towel from the kitchen and wiped the bin off a bit, tossing the towel on the coffee table. He slid the drawer open and grabbed the box, sitting on the floor to open it. Richie sat across from him.

"Little privacy?"

"What? Eds, what if it's about Derry?"

Eddie sighed. "What if it's super embarrassing stuff?"

Richie grinned. "Then I guess I'll have something to hold against you forever. Now, open it!"

Eddie pulled the top off and slid it aside. In the box were three canisters of old film, a few postcards, some painted rocks, and what looked like a gumball machine ring inside it's little plastic bubble. He grabbed one of the film canisters and shook it a little. "Still has film inside."

"Wow," Richie breathed out, taking another one and shaking it for himself. "Does anyone even print these anymore?"

"I know a place," Eddie said. "There's a drugstore in town that'll still develop film. I can get it done tomorrow."

Richie picked up one of the postcards. " _Hello from Camp Cherry Hill._ " He flipped it to read the back. " _Eddie, hope you're having a good summer, see you in August-let's go swimming before school starts. Your buddy, Ben._ Who the hell is Ben?"

Eddie blinked. "I'm...not sure. It sounds familiar?" He held his hand out for the postcard and thumbed over the writing. "Ben...Ben..."

"Oh, my God. Beaver camp," Richie uttered out. "Ben. Ben was the kid who told us about Derry being the beaver trapping camp."

A foggy memory of a boy crawling out of water came to Eddie. Blood. Cuts. Rubbing alcohol. 

"I patched him up-"

"You patched him up!" They both looked at each other. Richie rested his chin in his hand. "He was...what happened to him? He got hurt somehow. And you...had a fanny pack, holy _shit_! You had a fanny pack!"

"Oh, Jesus, _that's_ what you remember suddenly?"

"You had stuff in it to help him out! But you had to get...more stuff. From. Fuck. I can't remember. But you cleaned him up."

Eddie bit his lip, the thought trying to form in his mind. "I think someone beat him up? And we went to-a store, and..." The memory faded away. "That's all I got."

"It's something, at least," Richie remarked, grabbing the little ring in the plastic bubble. "Cute, Eds. This still fit you?"

Eddie rolled his eyes and grabbed it from him. "Very funny." He looked it over, the fake gold band with a giant plastic 'diamond' rattling as he moved it around. "Why the hell would I keep this?" He looked back to Richie, who seemed to be preoccupied with one of the painted rocks. "Rich?"

"I painted this," Richie said, holding up a rock with a purple and green sneaker decorated on it, flipping it over to show his name on the back of it. Eddie lifted an eyebrow and sat the ring back in the box. He picked up another rock and looked it over.

"This one says, 'Bill.'" It was painted to look like a red and black checkered shirt.

"This is a...Bev," Richie said, showing off one littered with pink hearts. There was one from a 'Stan'-who Eddie figured was the boy in in the seventh grade photo giving him bunny ears-with what looked like a Robin painted on it, a 'Mike' that had a fluffy sheep, and 'Ben' with a simple yellow smiley face. The last in the box was Eddie's own, which adorned a simple peace sign in Richie's colors-purple and green.

"Must have been our friends," Richie sadly said, placing the rocks carefully back in the box. "Some fucking friends we are, forgetting all about them."

"Hey," Eddie soothed, placing a hand on Richie's knee. "We're going to figure this out, okay? We still have a whole drawer full of files to pour through, Richie." He placed the lid back on the box and scooted it out of their way.

"I'm gonna need some nourishment, Edward. My Thai food still here?"

"...you literally just ate from every food truck like an hour ago. _If_ that."

"That was dessert, Eds. This is _dinner._ If we're doing a mindless task, let's at the very _least_ make it fun! A little camp out in the living room, we'll get Pandora playing in here...some Thai food and bourbon-it'll be the most fun you can have doing the boring-est thing imaginable."

Eddie sighed. "Okay, 'Mouth.' Get to it. I'll choose the station. You heat the food and fill the glasses."

Over an hour later, Eddie and Richie were only five files in. Eddie flipped through every page, not wanting to miss anything. "This one looks like power bills from a few years back," Eddie said. "Nothing from Maine. How about you?"

"Your mom ordered some weird shit on Direct TV, Eds," Richie answered, skimming through a file.

" _What?_ "

"I'm kidding! Kidding. This is all actually Direct TV, though. Nothing about Derry." He flopped the folder down and grabbed another from the drawer, passing it to Eddie, than grabbed one for himself. "We really gonna go through all these, huh?"

"Yeah, I mean...there could be something in here. Anything."

Richie took a sip from his glass and placed it back on the coffee table. "I guess. Kinda regretting this idea, though-" a photo spilled into his lap from the folder he opened. He picked it up and stared at it for a minute. "Ummmm. Eds?"

"Hmm?" Eddie was currently leafing through what looked to be statements from his mother's Mastercard.

"I, uh-I think this folder might be important to you." He held out the photo to Eddie. 

" _Dad_ ," Eddie whispered, his eyes suddenly glassy. He gently took the picture from Richie's hands and ran his fingers over it. It was Eddie, blowing out the candle on a cake that was in a 'six' shape, sitting on the lap of his father, Frank, at a large kitchen table with an ugly yellow tablecloth. His dad was thin in the picture, but not gaunt, his skin still a healthy color, a smile plastered on his face while watching his son. 

"There's-there's copies of his, uhh. Death certificate in here. And it looks like hospital records, too. Do you want me to put these on the table for you?"

"No! Wait, can I-please?" He held out a hand, and Richie nodded and passed the folder over to him. Eddie gingerly laid the photo on the floor next to him. He began to read the record over.

"When did he...?"

"Just before I turned seven," Eddie said, not looking up. "Leukemia. Fought it for a couple years, but..." his finger stopped on a word in the medical records. _Sepsis._ "Shit." Eddie scanned the page further. " _Patient on chemotherapy, was due for last round next week. Patient was hiking with work group trip to celebrate two weeks ago...Mister Kaspbrak states he cut his leg deep on a tree branch and wiped it clean when he got home the next day...patient states he went to doctor when it didn't heal...patient...has developed acute sepsis, rapidly worsening...no improvement noted in the past four days..."_

"Eddie, it's okay, you don't have to read it."

"He died from a fucking cut." Eddie blinked back tears. "He fought cancer for years, and he got sepsis from the outdoors. Jesus."

"Eds, you know his immune system was probably shot to hell because of the chemo."

"She made me...fear **everything**...because he got a _cut_...and she was right, I could die from just a simple-"

"Eds," Richie firmly said, cutting him off. "He was sick, Eddie. Your dad was actually sick. You weren't. Do **not** justify what she put you through because of this, alright?" Eddie swallowed thickly, nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. You're right. Can you put this folder on the table, please?" He placed the picture on top of it and handed them off to Richie, who complied. "I'm gonna-I'm gonna grab another folder if you want to check out this one. I think it's just credit card stuff, but..." Richie silently took it from Eddie, letting him grab a new one. "Thanks."

Eddie opened the folder, this time two photos tumbling out. "Jesus, what _now?_ " He picked up one and looked it over. "Holy shit. Holy...Richie?"

"Yeah?" Richie peered at the photograph Eddie was holding up. "Wait-I-that's me! That's _us!_ "

The photograph was of four small boys-Eddie on the end, smiling widely, and Richie next to him, his hair a mess and glasses just a bit too big. Next to the two of them were two other boys, grinning just as wide, one with straight, brown-reddish hair, and the other with lighter, bouncy curls and what looked to be the glimpse of a kippah poking out. All the boys had Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirts on, and all were missing at least one tooth in their smiles.

" _First Day of First Grade-Eddie, Richie, Bill, and Stan_ ," Eddie read off the back. Richie scooted to sit next to Eddie instead of across from him. "Oh my god. I _do_ have a fanny pack," Eddie mumbled. 

Richie laughed loudly. "This is fucking precious. Look at us! We're cute as hell! So Stan...Stan is the guy from the book giving you bunny ears, and Bill must be...the guy who painted the rock to look like a plaid shirt?"

"Has to be. Was there something about him? Like...different?" Eddie frowned, concentrating. "I feel like he had something like a hearing problem. Or..."

[ _No, t-t-t-take it back! Y-You're scared, and we all are, but take it back!_ ]

"Speech. He stuttered. Shit. I remember that now."

Richie pointed at the photo. "Silver," he commented.

"What is?"

"The bike. In the back. He named it Silver. He named it Silver after-"

"The Lone Ranger. Oh, man! They played re-runs of it, and he got _obsessed_ with the show-"

"And he'd yell the 'Hi-Yo 'thing all the time-"

Richie and Eddie stopped and smiled at each other. "We're finally getting somewhere," Richie said, happily.

"Yeah. But why the hell did we forget it all?" Eddie picked up the other photo that had fallen into his lap. It was him, roughly the same age as the first grade photo, sitting on a couch with Bill, but holding a baby on his lap. " _Eddie holding Georgie Denbrough while Billy watches_. Georgie. Who was Georgie?"

Richie and he looked down at the folder, clippings from newspapers scattered inside.

_Boy missing after playing outside in rain_

_Search resumes for missing boy after last seen near a storm drain_

_Police say they've found traces of blood found near storm drain less than a block from home_

_Boy feared dead, possibly drowned in sewers_

_Police call off search and declare missing boy officially drowned, still ask public for tips_

Richie held up a clipping of an obituary with a shaky hand. " _A celebration of life service for George 'Georgie' Denbrough will be held this Saturday at three..._ "

"Bill's brother," Eddie whispered. "Georgie was...he...went missing..."

Richie dropped the clipping as if it burned and shot to his feet. "I'm gonna be sick," he mumbled, rushing to the kitchen. Eddie wanted to follow him, but he felt glued to the floor. His legs had utterly failed him. He gently rifled through the other clippings in the folder, only barely registering the noise of Richie dry-heaving into the sink.

_Local girl Betty Ripsom missing, last seen near storm drains on West street-_

_Public asked to keep eye out for missing teenager Patrick Hockstetter, last seen near sewers-_

_Arm found believed to belong to missing boy Eddie Corcoran, last seen walking towards Neibolt-_

Eddie snapped back into the current, hearing the water run and his dishwasher disposal going and stopping. He turned when he heard footsteps close to him, revealing a pale Richie, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"That coffin was empty."

"What?"

"Georgie Denbrough's coffin was _empty._ It was fucking empty because they never fucking found him. They never found a trace of that kid. Ever. Our friend-our _best_ friend lost his brother, and we-we-we fucking forgot, how could we forget, how could we, how-how- **Eddie, how could we _forget_ our friend's baby brother that drowned in the sewers?** " Choking sobs left Richie's lips, and Eddie _did_ go to him this time. He embraced him tightly, soothingly rubbing his back.

"I don't know, Richie. I don't know. Maybe this is why we forgot. Maybe-"

"What are those? What's on the floor?" Richie pulled away from Eddie, getting on his hands and knees, looking through the newspaper clippings. "Drowned. Drowned. _Drowned_. Motherfucker, how many fucking goddamn times do kids drown in one tiny tow-" His eyes caught headlines scattered on the floor.

_Teen arrested for the murders of at least four people-_

_Henry Bowers declared unfit for trial, will live out his life in facility-_

"He-he-he killed them? No. **No.** He didn't-they-oh, Jesus." Richie sniffled, wiping his nose with his hand. "There was a curfew. They put in a curfew."

"They...said they thought they were unconnected. Just accidental drownings," Eddie said solemnly. "But then they placed a curfew, and we started to wonder..."

"He didn't do it," Richie cried out. "He didn't. He-they-something else happened. I-Oh, fuck. I gotta throw up again, i got to-I- ** _fuck_**." Richie took off for the bathroom this time, the papers on the floor fluttering as he booked it. Eddie saw rather than felt a tear drop to the floor-he wiped at his cheek, not even realizing that, he too, had been crying.

Georgie Denbrough. Brother of Bill. Barely seven, lost on that rainy day forever. To who? To what? The papers said a drowning, then they said a Henry Bowers, but Richie seemed adamant it wasn't. Then wh-

[ _This isn't real enough for you, Billy? I'm not real enough for you? It was real enough for Georgie!_ ]

Eddie shuttered, rubbing his arm, a pain suddenly shooting through it. Maybe Richie was right. 

Maybe something else happened to Georgie.

He rummaged through his cabinet, getting a glass and filling it with cold water. He padded quietly down to the main bathroom, where Richie was hunched over a closed toilet, face smushed into the lid.

"Hey," Eddie said, grabbing his attention. Richie looked up and pulled himself to a sitting position, leaning his back against the wall. Eddie handed him the glass and Richie gratefully gulped it down, handing it back to him. Eddie placed the glass on the counter and slid next to Richie on the floor. "I got ginger-ale if you want some," Eddie offered.

"You know that woman I talked about? The one when we were playing the game about who our exes reminded us of on Brooklyn Nine-Nine?"

"Yeah," Eddie answered, just happy to hear Richie's voice had calmed down a little.

"We were married."

"Yeah? That so?"

"Her name was Alice. We met the very first day of college. Ended up having three classes with her. We were dating by the second month, and by our fourth month, I knew I wanted to marry her. So we decided to when the semester ended in May. We were only nineteen, but we were like, just-fuck it. I loved her, you know? I felt like she was filling something missing in me-I didn't know my past either, even that early. But she brought out the best in me. So our dumb asses got married two days after the semester ended. We were gonna be together, forever and ever."

Eddie nodded. "So what happened?"

"She _drowned,_ " Richie replied hoarsely, bitterly. 

_Oh._ Eddie wasn't expecting _that_ answer. He thought Richie was going to go into something like she was messing around with a roommate, or that maybe her parents or his had forced them to divorce because they were too young. But not that. Now he could understand why Richie was so upset-not only were their memories of what horrors they lived through with the missing kids suddenly coming back to them, but it was reminding him of what happened to the woman he loved. "Richie, Jesus. I'm so sorr-"

Richie's finger came up and pressed on Eddie's lips before he could continue. It dawned on him Richie had probably heard _I'm so sorry_ a million times since the death of his wife. He grabbed Richie's hand softly and gave it a squeeze.

"It was at the YMCA, of all fucking places," Richie spat out. "She couldn't swim well. Alice was from Nebraska. Spent her youth dancing instead of swimming. She wanted to spend our first summer together at all the beaches we could, so she decided to take some lessons. Just to get better at it. And she drowned in their pool, with thirty other people there, and three lifeguards on duty her fourth lesson in. We had been married for a month by then. A fucking month. They never could tell me what the hell happened. How she went unnoticed. How she slipped into the deep end. I got an apology, a promise of 'better training for their staff,' and a shit-stain of a gift certificate. Can you believe the _balls_ on them? A gift certificate for a free year long membership at their fucking death trap. Like it would magically bring her back." He wiped his face dry and placed his head on Eddie's shoulder. "I apologize. I hate being like this. I just. Fuck. Those kids. Our friend. We just forgot it all, like it was nothing, and seeing that they could have drowned and remembering Alice, and-I-I can't forget her. I _refuse_ to forget her. I'm always so worried I'm going to forget her just like I forgot my life in Maine."

 

"Hey," Eddie said, "you won't. You _never_ will. Okay?" He delicately wrapped his arm around Richie. "Let's stop for tonight. I'll drop the film we found off tomorrow sometime. But I'm not letting you go back to the hotel like this. I know I have clothes around here that'll fit you. Let's get you showered. Brush your teeth. You can sleep in the guest room, alright?" Richie lifted his head away from him and gave a curt nod. "Come on. There's stuff in the guest bedroom's bathroom. Let's get you sorted out." He helped Richie up the best he could, leading him down the hallway into the smaller bedroom. He flicked the light on, and made his way to the little bathroom inside it. "There's a unopened toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. Body wash and shampoo and all that are in the shower. I think it's all lilac scented? I hope that's okay. I'm going to go grab some stuff I got through companies that do business with us that they gifted me with. You a size large? I think I have large. I'll leave them on the bed for you while you shower, okay?"

"'Kay," Richie said, staring blankly into space and sitting on the bed. "You really don't have to do this for me."

"I wouldn't forgive myself if I let you go back like this."

Richie gave an honest smile. "You going soft for me, Eddie Spaghetti?"

"...oh. Oh, no. You did _not_ call me..."

"I called you that, didn't I? Eddie Spaghetti. It's cute. Cute, cute, cute."

"Just _please_ go shower and brush. There's mouthwash in there, too."

"What are you trying to say, Eds?"

"That barf-breath is not tolerated in this house," Eddie mused. 

"You wanna smooch this goodnight, eh? Don't blame you Eds, I am quite pleasing to the eye-"

Oh, Jesus, _please._ Go shower already. I'll check in on you in a bit, okay? Towels are under the sink."

"Thank you. Really, Eds. Again. I lov-" Richie stopped himself, looking surprised. "Um. I appreciate it. A lot."

"It's no problem. Honestly." Eddie left Richie to go dig up clothes that would fit him, listening to the telltale sound of the shower starting. 

_Was Richie going to say something else?_

_Did it sound like he almost said he loved me?_


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (an update! After finally getting back into a less crazy schedule and then having a summer-long illness that lasted into last week, I finally am back. I didn't forget this story! Hopefully I can update more often now and finish this up. It's a short one, but it's here!)

_Eds?_

_Eds?_

Eddie's eyes snapped open. He rubbed at them, trying to adjust to the figure standing before him at his side of the bed. Richie. Richie in the Ben and Jerry's t-shirt and shorts Eddie had found for him, glasses slightly sideways on his face. He curled his arms into himself, rubbing them if he was cold. "I'm sorry, Eds, it's just, um. Could I. Uhh. God, I feel like I'm about three years old..."

"Did you wanna sleep with me?" Eddie scanned Richie's face for any trace of a snarky comeback, but there was none. A quick nod followed. "M'kay. Get in." 

Richie hurriedly made his way to the other side of the bed, sliding beneath the covers and placing his glasses on the night stand.

"You have a nightmare?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah. About water. Gray water."

"I'm sor-"

"Don't. It's not the first time I've had that dream."

Eddie propped himself up on his elbow. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not much to talk about Eds. Gross gray water everywhere I see, or _can_ see. It's like it's black all around me, but except ay my feet. There's...faces in the water. Heads floating. And I'm not alone, I know I'm not, but I can't see them. But then...I could tonight, I could see...someone..."

Richie took a breath in. "You. It was you. You were there, Eds. Next to me. We were walking through this river of death together."

Eddie frowned. "Do you have dreams like that a lot? Where everything is black?" He hid a yawn behind his hand as best he could.

"Yeah, sometimes. I'm sorry I woke you, Eds, you're tired. We should go back to sleep."

Eddie rolled onto his back. "I have them, too," he said quietly after a few minutes.

"What? Creepy water dreams?"

"Dreams where I can't see anything past me. It's dark all around me, but I can feel people there. I can hear people talking, but I can't make out their voices. But the other night..this one dream I have often, I-I saw a hand. I never saw anything past my bed, but a hand reached out and grabbed me-"

"Is it a nightmare?"

"Not...really. It's a dream where I...um....I'm telling someone about my...uhhh, you know. Sexuality. And they support me, and care about me no matter what. But I never saw anyone. Until the other night."

"Interesting. Who's Myra?"

Eddie coughed. "What?"

"Myra. That guy at your work said say hi to Myra. You said she was your cousin, but my memory is _now_ recalling you had no cousin named Myra. So who is she?"

Eddie rolled over, facing away from Richie. "My fiancée."

"Oh, you're bi? I kinda got the feeling after our chat with exes that you were, uh-"

"I **am.** "

Richie snapped the lamp that sat on his bedside table on, making Eddie groan. "Wait. What? Eds? Eds, look at me."

"It's a long story, Richie."

Eddie felt Richie scooch closer to him. "Does it look like I'm going anywhere anytime soon? Spill."

"Richie, it's...complicated."

"You're a gay man engaged to a woman. My guess is either blackmail, in it for the money, or you're too afraid to come out. If it's blackmail, I know a guy who knows a guy..."

"Richie."

"Eddie. Come on. What are you doing?" Eddie sat up in bed, staring at Richie in the dim light. 

"It's...her dad. He's a big name here. And he's the guy who's going to expand my business. So, yeah. It's money." He held his face in his hands. "And I already know. I'm a selfish asshole. I should listen to Sarah and go with a different guy who could help."

Richie sat up, placing his hand on Eddie's shoulder. "So do it."

"It's not that easy."

"How? How is it not _that_ easy?"

"He's a big name! If I break it off with Myra, I might lose the deal. I might lose what I wanted to accomplish. What i worked for. I just wanted to be somebody. Somebody my mom could actually be proud of."

"Eds, you already _are_ somebody. This town goddamn loves you from what I've seen. So what if some old rich fart finds out you're gay? What's he gonna do, tell people not to do business with you? That's a fucked up thing, first off, and second, people would stand behind **you** one hundred percent."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Well, I mean...I'm a bit loud and a bit unashamed if you haven't noticed. I've always let my audience know I'm into anyone."

Eddie smiled a little. "When did you know?"

"Uhh...I mean, I don't remember much before UCLA, but I knew then. I'm sure I probably knew long before that."

"Yeah," Eddie answered. "I knew I was gay when I moved here. I think, I think...we moved here _because_ I was gay."

"Really? Jesus."

"Yeah. I- I don't know. I just always felt the reason i was moved here was to... **forget** I was gay, as messed up as that sounds. My mom wasnt really the most tolerant type. Which, finding out about Derry, I don't think anyone was tolerant in that town."

"...we should go back."

Eddie looked at Richie incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I was thinking about it in the shower. We should go back. You and me. I have next week off. I don't know about you, but maybe you can use vacation time? I mean, you own the place, I'm sure you could fake a death in the family or something, right?"

"Why would you want t-"

"Eddie, we grew up there. And we don't remember one bit of it. We deserve to know. I don't think...I think those kids were murdered by someone else. Not the guy they arrested. I don't why I think that, but it's like... on the tip of my tongue _who_ did." He flopped back down into bed. "I have a feeling that if we actually go there, something will come back to us. I don't know _how_ I know this, I just feel it."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. I can take time off. It's no big deal. But I want to get that film developed in the morning."

"Good idea," Richie yawned. "Can I-Can I leave this light on?" Eddie nodded, and laid back next to him, staring at the ceiling.

"You really think people would support me if I didn't marry Myra?"

"I would. Fuck them if _they_ don't."

Eddie closed his eyes, sleep starting to wash over him.

"Eds?"

"Hmmm?"

"Was there some weird guy in town? Like a mime or something? Magician? Or maybe a clown?"

"A wha-"

[ _Where you going, Eds? If you lived here you'd be home by now! Come join the clown, Eds. You'll float down here. We all float down here. Yes, we do!_ ]

"Oh. Oh, **fuck**."


	7. 7

When Eddie's eyes snapped open, it was an hour before he had to get up for the day, and he knew there really wasn't any use trying to go back to sleep. The night had been spent dreaming of creepy things-a leper after him down an old, scary road, hideous high pitched laughter, walking through some sort of mucky, disgusting...river? Creek? He could'nt really remember. All he knows is that after Richie had asked him if he remembered a clown, _something_ in Eddie's brain had clicked. He still couldn't exactly place his finger on what exactly, but yes, a clown had definitely been there in their childhoods.

But who _was_ he?

Eddie turned slightly to face Richie, bundled on the other side of the bed and slightly snoring. He wondered if Richie had as much trouble as he did last night staying asleep. If he was having the same dreams he was.

Finally braving leaving the warmth of the blankets, Eddie quietly slipped out of bed, padding softly over to the back of his bedroom door where he kept his robe, and tied it around him. He made his way to the kitchen, sleepily pressing the button on his coffee maker to make the coffee now instead of later, then wandered his way back towards the hall into the guest room. He picked up Richie's clothes from the floor and gently emptied his pockets, laying what he had in them (wallet, lighter, a pack of smokes) on the bed, then took the spare robe that was in the closet and made his way back to his bedroom. He lay out the robe for Richie to slip into whenever he woke up, then took his dirty clothes to the small laundry room he had that was just off the kitchen, giving them a spray of Febreze and sticking them in the dryer for a little bit. There really wasn't time to wash them for him, but at least they'd smell a bit fresher.

Yawning, Eddie poured a cup of coffee and sipped it, black, as he dug through his cupboards. An unopened box of Bisquick was still up there. It wasn't exactly pancake mix, but it'd do for Richie's sweet tooth. He groggily got to work, mixing up the batter and warming up the pan. He had cooked about five of them by the time Richie emerged from the bedroom with the robe Eddie had left him, rubbing his eyes.

"Whuzzis? Pancakes? You said you didn't eat sweets?"

"Technically, biscuit mix, but it'll work. Coffee's in the pot if you drink it, mugs are in the door right above it. Your clothes are being de-wrinkled in the dryer."

"Oh," Richie blinked. "You didn't have to."

Eddie shrugged, flipping another pancake. "It's alright. Didn't want you going back to your hotel looking disheveled, you know," he smiled.

"Oh, ho, you don't want the neighbors talking 'bout us, that it?" Richie grinned, grabbing a mug. He filled it halfway with coffee, then opened Eddie's fridge. "You got-never mind. Cream. Found it. You **do** have maple syrup, right? Isn't that shit like currency around here?"

"In the back," Eddie answered. "I'm not a monster, you know. Syrup's pretty good in dinner meals to sweeten, along with some broccoli and carrots, and-"

"I get it, I get it, healthy living, yadda yadda," Richie interrupted, taking a sip of his coffee. He grimaced and added more cream. "So, what's the plan?"

"Plan?" Eddie snapped the stove off and added the last pancake onto a plate, bringing it and dinnerware over to his small breakfast nook. Richie followed and sat across from him, grabbing one of the clean plates and poking a couple pancakes with a fork.

"Yeah, plan. When do you want to leave for Derry?"

Eddie grabbed a pancake for himself. "You really want to go through with this, huh?"

Richie poured a waterfall of syrup over his pancakes. "Shit, I forgot butter. Wait-you don't? I thought we agreed!"

"We did?"

"Eds, c'mon. You did. I know something sparked your interest when I mentioned a clown. Maybe actually getting there will help us remeber everything, you know?"

Eddie sighed, taking the syrup from Richie and putting a dollop of it on his pancake. "But, do we really want to? Is this really what we want?"

Richie stuffed a mouthful of pancakes and chewed. "'muh mean, 'oo dun 'ahf to-" he swallowed, then continued-"but-what happens when i leave here? Will that box with the painted rocks get shoved under your bed? The picture of us as kids? The newspaper clippings? Will you forget as soon as I leave? Will I forget _you_?"

Eddie picked at his pancake sadly. "I don't want to forget you," he mumbled, taking a small bite.

Richie beamed. "Oh, now we _are_ getting scandalous! Oh, Eds, I do declare-"

"Oh, my God. Shut up."

"You and me, a lil' old bad romance?"

"I'm warning you, shithead-"

Richie wiggled his eyebrows. " _Edddddddddddddddddddddssssssssssss..._ "

"Okay! Alright.! We'll go."

"Awesome! Because I figured we can leave there today. It's not that long of a drive."

"Today?"

"Yeah! Like I said, I'm notorious for flaking. I'll duck out early. Just come up with something for work. Like a tall, handsome stranger is whisking you away for a good time." He winked and sipped at his coffee. 

Eddie chewed on his lip. "I guess I can come up with something. But I really want to get that film developed first. The place opens at eight, and I know she can do it within an hour or so. What about your clothes?"

Richie took another bite of pancakes. "'otel iz 'keenin' them for muh." Swallow. "I only did enough for carry on. I hate checking bags in. That should be fine for the couple days we're gone, right? I mean, underwear isn't much of a problem, I don't really wear them much-"

Eddie glared. "Remind me to burn those shorts I let you borrow." He drank from his cup, tapping his fork on his plate. "So. Plan. I'll call and say I'm coming in a little late. I'll drive you to your convention. On the way, I'll drop off the film, drop off you, then get what I need squared away and then take a leave of absence. I'll come home, pack, pick you up at the hotel, _you_ pack-and we'll pick the film up before we leave town. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Perfect ' wasn't exactly the word. A knot had formed in Eddie's stomach when he handed over the film to get developed-he had no idea _why_ he felt so nervous-maybe the unknown coming to light, but he couldn't get out of the store fast enough and nearly lost his breakfast in the parking lot. Richie had frowned from the car window and gotten out to help him, but Eddie waved him back, and they drove to Richie's convention in silence. When Eddie parked in the lot, Richie finally broke it.

"You gonna be okay, Eds?"

Eddie bleakly nodded. "You ever feel like something is warning you? I feel like we're opening a door that's _meant_ to be kept locked shut."

Richie un-clicked his seatbelt and gently patted Eddie's shoulder. "Yeah. It does. But we're in this together. I won't leave your side. Not until we figure this all out" Eddie smiled at Richie, actually...relieved at the promise. 

"I know. Go make your fans happy. I'll text you when I'm ready to come back this way."

Eddie thought of every excuse that would seem plausible to get work off, which was harder than he realized. His few family members in Vermont were right there _in_ Vermont and could easily verify that no, he wasn't coming to see them. He couldn't really just blurt out to work that Richie was taking him to their childhood hometown to figure out why a bunch of kids were murdered (he _could_ , but he figured that wouldn't go over well), and there wasn't any family he knew of there in Derry that he could claim he was visiting. His dad's medical records whirred over and over in his mind, trying to think if someone was listed, until he finally realized something.

His **dad** would be in Derry.

When he got to the office, he took Dan and Sarah aside, and said he had gotten notice that his father's headstone needed replacing, and he wanted to attend to it as soon as he could before winter and snow set in. They understood completely, and Eddie filled out the proper paperwork to take a leave of absence, only feeling slightly guilty he was lying-but on the other hand, he hadn't been there in years-maybe his dad's stone _did_ need replacing. Who knew. He spent a couple hours making sure everything that needed to be done while he was gone was laid out, then bid his goodbyes. He drove home as quick as he could, taking a shower and packing for the trip. He was just finishing zipping his backpack up when Richie texted if he was ready to go-" **I sure am, the funnel cakes truck left, Eds :(** " and Eddie laughed despite the ball of nerves re-forming in his gut. He quickly texted him back that he was on his way, doing a quick double check that everything that needed to be unplugged was, and sped off towards the convention center.

Richie was fidgety on the way to the hotel to pick up his belongings, more so than usual. He drummed his fingers on the dash, completely out of tune with whatever was playing on the radio, and for a moment, Eddie wondered if Richie was the one about to back out of the plan. "You okay, Rich?"

"Yep," Richie affirmed, still tapping his fingers. "It is a little harrowing, I guess. I kept thinking about what's on that camera roll all day. What-what do you think the pictures are of?"

Eddie shrugged, pulling up to the hotel. "'Dunno, but we'll find out in about fifteen minutes. You want me to come up with you?"

"Oh, you wanna test out my bed before I check out, 'eh?"

"I'll _leave_ you here, you know." But Eddie still felt a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Tell you what, how about you pull up hotels on your phone while you're grabbing your stuff and checking out? See what's in the area. It'll give you something to focus on besides the photos."

"Can do, Cap'n!" Richie gave a half-assed salute, and unbuckled his seatbelt. "I'll be back in a flash." He slithered out the door and disappeared inside the hotel.

Eddie played around with the radio and looked for a station they could both enjoy-well, maybe more for Richie's enjoyment, Eddie supposed-and Richie eventually emerged, a bag in his hand. He threw open the car door in a mock triumph and tossed the bag to Eddie. "For you, m'Lord!"

"Did you...did you just take _all_ of the courtesy mints?"

"Not _all_. I left like, five. Also, there's a cute tourist-trap map in there. We could stop at the Old Clock Museum! It's halfway there!"

"...No."

"But it's **clocks**!"

"Richie," Eddie warned, but smirking, "we're not stalling. You were geared up to go to Derry this morning, what happened?" Eddie turned the engine back to life and left the lo, Richie staring out his window in silence.

"I'm scared," he finally blurted out after a couple minutes. 

"Me too," Eddie said. "But remember, we're in this together. You said so. We'll get through this."

"Yeah," Richie weakly answered. "Oh! Speaking of together, I found a sweet hotel around twenty minutes on that Truvago app. Supposed to have a killer shower and a pool if we want to swim. I snagged it for two nights-"

"Wait, you _booked_ it?"

"Didn't you want me to?"

"I said _look_ , not **book**!"

"It's got two beds, if that's what you're worried about. But you didn't seem to mind snuggling up to me in yours last night."

Eddie reddened. "I-I-I did **not** snuggle with you. Did I?"

Richie softly smiled. "Well. A _little_. After you feel asleep again. You weren't draped over me or anything, but you nuzzled pretty close for a while. Or at least until I feel back asleep."

 _Smooth move, ExLax._ Eddie thought to himself. "I'm-I didn't mean-I really-Oh Christ, I'm so sor-"

"Why are you sorry? It's fine." Richie waved him off. "I'm super irresistible, I know. Especially after sobbing like an idiot and throwing up in your sink and your bathroom. I bring all the cute boys running with that maneuver."

Eddie sighed, still slightly embarrassed. "Last night was rough. And just... a lot to take in. We should-make some kinda rules."

Richie fiddled with he heat. "Like what?"

"Well-okay, we're on our way to pick up photos, and we know those are a big... _trigger_? _Opening?_ Something into our past, so lets just be open with each other when we look through them. Bad memory, good memory, sad, happy, creepy, whatever it is, we say it. We won't get anywhere about what happened to us if we don't _talk_."

"Yeah, good plan," Richie agreed. "And also, you let me drive the car for a while."

Eddie shot him a sideways glance. " **Fine.** But only once we get to actual, busy roads, so you can't go ninety with my baby."

"Good enough for me!"

Eddie pulled into the small drugstore where they had dropped off the film earlier. "You ready?"

Richie nodded, licking his lips. "Nope. But let's do it anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (yeahhh, this chapter kicked my butt. I got sick for two weeks after I announced I was working on it, then had to take care of other sick family that caught whatever I had, then had to do make-up stuff for school on top of all that, and WOW. This was meant to be longer but hopefully I can just make the next chapter longer to make up for that.)


End file.
